The Young Sniper
by Bella Watson-Holmes
Summary: John Watson: Sniper. While out on a mission to kill someone threatening his boss, he instead finds himself falling into the enemies arms. (Johnlock, Mormor)
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes, the only consulting Detective in the world, was thinking about a case based around a drug ring that had manage to stay unknown for many years. He was close to figuring the ring leader out when the he got a text from DI Lestrade.

**'We have a lead. Come to the Hospital' GL**

Sherlock caught a cab to St. Bart's hospital; Lestrade waited outside for him. Sherlock stepped out of the cab, walking up to him.

"So, what is the lead?" Sherlock asked.

"A boy. He's from inside the drug ring itself… He seems to not want to talk to anyone." DI Lestrade said. "He was found beaten in an ally way near a bar."

"Any signs of abuse?" Sherlock asked.

"Several, repeatedly beaten… Nothing broken." Lestrade told him as they went to the boy's room, Sherlock entered the room. The boy had short blond hair and blue eyes. He was acting scared; Sherlock stepped up to him_. _He studied the boy, quickly taking in what he could. 'Bruises seem to be away from any vital place, appear to be strategically placed, even. He has black fibers under his nails, not dirt, and no scrape marks on his hands, the people who did this helped him up. His eyes aren't moving rapidly nor is he truly cowering, he has no signs of shock that would be normal for such an apparently vicious attack. Interesting.'

"I am Sherlock Holmes; I haven't got your name." Sherlock said.

" John Watson." The boy introduced himself.

"Can you tell me what happen to you?" Sherlock asked.

"I just remember being grabbed and I was being kicked repeatedly, eventually I blacked out…" John said, glancing to the left. Sherlock knew he was lying straight through his teeth, he was a horrible John was sent to find out information most likely.

"He is hiding something, but is too scared to say what" Sherlock stated to Lestrade, bending the truth. "Can he be put in my protective care?"

"Why?" Lestrade asked.

"There is a reason I am on the case. He might just help me solve it…" Sherlock stated while thinking, 'Afterall, he's hear to spy on me for a reason, it must be because I'm close.'

"Fine, I will arrange it. Do you want to see the photos of the bruises?" DI Lestrade asked.

"Yeah." Sherlock looked at the young boy; he had to be only eighteen years old at least. John Watson had lied about the beating and nearly everything else. He studied the photos. He was punched repeatedly in the stomach and chest area, none straying too close to an organ. The bruising light over his stomach. He wasn't kicked, there was only punch-related bruising. This was done by people he knew, trusted.

John was lying in the hospital bed when he got his cell phone back. He sent a text message before Sherlock returned.

**'He fell for it.' JW**

**'Good, don't be fooled by him****' JM**

Sherlock came back in before John could respond to the message. He hid his phone and looked at Sherlock.

"You're being released to me in about an hour." Sherlock said.

"Good, I assume I will be safe." John said.

"Of course." Sherlock said.

An hour later they were heading to Sherlocks home. John just kept up the act as he didn't think Sherlock had deduced it yet, and if he did, he didn't show it. The cab pulled up in front of 221B Baker Street and John stepped out and looked at the shop.

"Mrs. Hudson is my landlady." Sherlock said while opening the door. John followed, heading up the stairs. Once in the apartment, he looked towards the mantel.

"Is that a real Skull?" John asked.

"It's a friend of mine… Well… when I say friend..." Sherlock trailed off and John just gave him a weird look. Sherlock studied the boy and went into the kitchen.

"Oh, I should warn you I preform experiments."

"Right... Where am I sleeping?" John asked.

"Upstairs." Sherlock said, pointing. John scurried to his room. He still had to check in with his boss.

**'You sure he's on the trail?' JW**

**'Yes, he's a freak I hear.' JM**

**'Not sure about that, but he's different.' JW**

**'Don't fall for him.' JM**

**'I won't.' JW**

* * *

**Winterimperfect plays Sherlock, Lestrade, Moriarty, Sebastian, Mycroft (Through out the story)**

**Bella Watson-Holmes Plays John, Molly (Through out the story)**

**All Mormor and action bits are by Winterimperfect.**

**For those who had followed or favorite the previous post sorry it got deleted, my bad but the plot is staying the same but Chapter one has been changed a little bit.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

John came down the stairs calmly, stopping short as he saw his 'host' bent over what appeared to be human remains. 'He is a psycho!' John quickly thought as he came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the stairs. Sherlock glanced over his shoulder, his lips twitching slightly.

"Don't give me that look. It's an experiment. Legally acquired the leg. Well, legal if you think that no one will notice it missing." He drawled whilst sliding a sharp knife over the decaying flesh. John put a hand to his mouth and groaned out, "Why are you doing this?"

Sherlock glanced over his shoulder once more, amusement shining brightly in his eyes.

"Someone has to know when a laceration was induced on the body. Before death? After Death? How long after death? Was it already decaying? Someone has to know. That someone is me. Questions?" Sherlock asked.

"Can't you do that some place besides the kitchen table?" John asked.

Sherlock let out a snort. "My house, my table." He gave John a look before bending back over and oh so slowly, as if to make sure John could hear the sickening sound of flesh parting under a blade, he went back to hacking up the rotting limb.

"I see why you have no flat mate…" John retorted.

Sherlock waved a hand in dismissal towards the young man, showing the fact he was touching a decaying, dismembered body part with no gloves on. "Who said I wanted one." The taller man muttered under his breath, tossing the blade in the sink and wrapping the leg up in plastic before stashing it in a hall cupboard.

"So why take me in?" John asked.

"My decision. One you don't need to know. But, I can assure you," The man broke off to enter John's personal space and loom over him, "It's not to be 'buddies'."

"Well I don't need one." John said annoyed, waiting for the detective to respond.

"Fantastic. Neither do I." Sherlock brushed past, lowering himself gracefully into his chair and pulling out his laptop, tapping away at the keys as if John no longer existed in his world. John looked at Sherlock curiously and sat in the chair close to the mantel.

"Why do the police go to you?" John asked, hoping for an answer.

Sherlock ignored the question entirely, continuing to study the latest news articles. John went into the kitchen and found an apple. He looked at it and then at Sherlock. He thought of throwing the apple at Sherlock. He sat back in the chair, tossing it from hand to hand.

"Don't eat that. It's an experiment." He glanced up sharply from the screen, giving the boy a pointed look before going back to his research.

"This has to be a joke, right? you can't be human." John said annoyed.

Sherlock snorted as his phone vibrated. He pulled it out and glanced at it before tapping out a response to Lestrade.

**Bring food. Brats hungry. –SH**

John put the apple back in the fridge and glared at Sherlock, not believing this man was human.

"You could act not so rude..."

"It's not an act. This is who I am." The man muttered, frowning at his phone before pocketing it and going back to his laptop.

"You're always like this! Who thought it would be a good idea I stay here?" John asked, walking up to Sherlock.

"Oh, so you know how I act on a daily basis, do you? It's been, what, a day?" Sherlock drawled, leaning back in his chair and slinging a long leg over his knee. "It was my idea, if you must know. After all, I'm better protection then the police ever will be." Sherlock cocked a brow, "Or would you prefer to die a painful death due to the incompetence of the police?"

"You will protect me? With what?"

Sherlock gave him a bland look before springing from his chair and pinning the other to the chair opposite. "My body. My intellect." He pressed harder against the boys arms before letting go. He was unnaturally strong and hoped the boy felt it. He once more sunk into his chair, but this time discarded his laptop. John didn't move out of shock that he even let himself be caught off guard, he just stared at the man unsure what to say at this point.

The taller man gave an obvious look of dismissal as he pulled out his violin and began to violently pluck at the strings, his gaze going blank as he retreated to his mind. His guard was still up, he could still react to outside stimuli, but he would no longer pay attention to anything not threatening. Once John got over the shock he stood up, "Is there any food I can eat around here?"

Lestrade took that moment to waltz in the door, a bag of take out in one hand and a case file in the other. He unceremoniously dumped the food in front of John and looked at Sherlock with a raised eyebrow.

Sherlock continued to pluck at the strings, but had seen the man come in. He had come out of his trance the minute he heard Lestrades footsteps.

"I brought food for you, too." He said towards the prone form still plucking at strings. Sherlock sighed and lowered his instrument.

"No need, I have about three days before I need to give my body nourishment. Don't want to slow down my brain functions for something as useless as digestion." He stated, reaching out to take the case file, opening it and thumbing through it. He already knew most of this. His brow furrowed as he quickly scanned the pages in hopes of finding new information.

"You're the guy from the hospital." John said

Lestrade glanced at John. "You're the kid from the hospital." He mocked before pointing at the bag, "Eat."

The detective sat down and studied John, ignoring Sherlock who was muttering and scanning the pages at an alarming speed.

"You sound as bad as the freak." John said, annoyed.

Lestrade bristled but said nothing. He noticed that Sherlocks hand stilled slightly before going back to skimming the pages. John ate while looking at the two men curious as to what Sherlock was looking at, he'd never get the answer if he asked.

"So, why you here?" John asked the grey haired man.

"To give him that and apparently give sustenance to a brat who doesn't seem to deserve it." Lestrade sniffed in Johns direction before glancing at Sherlock. "Found anything?"

"No." Came the deep baritone reply, frustration lacing it as the tall man once again went through the papers.

"Right, I am a brat." John looked at Lestrade, "So, I suppose you're his friend."

"I don't have friends." Sherlock muttered at the same time Lestrade replied with, "Something like that."

The two glared at each other before Sherlock went back to his papers and Lestrade glanced away.

"I wonder who would be friends with the great Sherlock Holmes." John murmured

Lestrade nor Sherlock felt the need to grace the boy with an answer for such a question.

"Can I ask when I get out of this place?" John asked.

"When we deem it safe." Lestrade replied. "For now, stay put. Try not to cause Sherlock grief for he is going out on a limb for your ass."

"Sure whatever, like I care..." John didn't look at neither of the two men.

Sherlock slammed the papers onto the table. "Nothing. Just nothing. I need to go to the crime scene." Sherlock ground out. Lestrade glanced at the consulting detective.

"Not yet. You can't. You have company to watch over." Lestrade replied, ignoring the burning glare the other gave him. "Don't give me that look. You can go to the crime scene another time. They're not calling for rain so nothing should be amiss."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Aside from the trampling feet of Anderson and his crew." He muttered before going into a sulk.

Lestrade huffed before standing abruptly. "I better go. Have fun you two."  
He smiled thinly at them before leaving.

"Crime scene?" John asked looking curiously at Sherlock.

"None of your concern." Sherlock replied, picking up a discarded sheet of evidence and scouring it once more in hopes of missing something.

"What are you some kind of detective?" John asked.

"I don't know, am I?" He replied, amusement slipping onto his face as he cryptically added, "Think."

"I will take that as a yes." John said.

"Then you'll only be partially right based on an assumption and thinking my words are plain as day." He muttered in return, slamming the paper down on the table forcefully

"Partially... what am I missing?" John asked curiously.

Sherlock just gave him a stare before once again going over the files. "What am I missing." He muttered before standing up and pacing the length of the room, coming to a stand still at his skull. He glanced at it before going into a long tangent in French, working out the details he knew and going over them with his 'friend'.

John thought for a moment, "Wait you're a consulting detective, right?"

Sherlock glanced at the boy. "Bien, and how would you know that is my title owing to the fact I'm the only one in existence due to the fact I made it up myself?" He muttered, steepling his fingers in front of his mouth as he regarded the boy.

"Maybe it's a lucky guess... I am not exactly stupid." John had a feeling he said something that gave him away. "Or maybe I looked you up..."

Sherlock spun on his heel and looked down his nose at John. "When? You have nothing on you. No computer. Your cell phone, maybe, but you couldn't have before meeting me." He leaned in really close. "I'm not exactly well known, I do my best to keep out of the papers." He snapped back up straight before going back to pacing and muttering things in French.

"Maybe I used your computer." John retorted.

Sherlock smirked at him. "It's password protected and I see no evidence whatsoever of someone other than me touching it. Also, it was in my room last night and I was awake."

"What is your point, Mr. Holmes?" John asked glaring at him.

"You know fully well what I'm getting at." Sherlock replied with a poisonous look. "I need not clarify for your benefit."

"Is that so?" John smirked at the consulting detective.

Sherlock didn't dignify that with an answer, going to the picture window and staring out at it, receding into his mind. John knew he made a mistake but he wasn't about to tell his boss. The young man could fix this easy.

* * *

**Winterimperfect plays Sherlock, Lestrade, Moriarty, Sebastian, Mycroft (Through out the story)**

**Bella Watson-Holmes Plays John, Molly (Through out the story)**

**All Mormor and action bits are by Winterimperfect.**


	3. Chapter 3

John was supposed to meet his boss today so he watched Sherlock and soon the detective went into the bathroom. John cracked open the door to see Sherlock getting the shower ready. He was about to get in the shower, a perfect time to sneak away without Sherlock noticing him. John grabbed his coat on his way to the door.

He was about to grab the doorknob when he felt a strong grip on his arm. He quickly looked over his shoulder to see the tall detective staring at him crossly, his damp locks plastered to his head.

"Where do you think you're going?" Sherlock ground out, his grip tightening on Johns upper arm. John opened his mouth to make an excuse but was cut off. "Never mind, you'll just lie."

It was then that it came to Johns attention that Sherlock was in the nude. He felt his heart skip a beat and felt all the blood rushing south. A peculiar response to a naked man.

"Wait here. I'll get dressed than we can go out. No sneaking."

Sherlock let go of John and went to his room to get dressed. The young man didn't move and he couldn't sneak out now anyways. John just waited, trying to figure out why he was suddenly thinking of only Sherlock to the point he had almost forgotten about meeting his boss. He pulled his phone out and sent a text message.

'**Can't make it, got caught' JW**

John saw Sherlock come back out dressed in a black button down shirt and matching trousers. Sherlock grabbed his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck and stood next to John. Sherlock studied the young man before saying anything.

"Bien. You're coming with me."

"Right." John said looking at Sherlock.

Sherlock straightened himself before snagging Johns wrist and all but dragging him down the stairs. "Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock called out, "We'll be gone for a while."

With that, he dragged John out to the street and hailed a cab, tossing the other in and giving an address to the cabbie before sitting back and glaring out the window.

"So, where we going?" John asked curiously.

"Crime scene." He muttered, pulling out his cellphone to punch out a quick text.

"This about the case you're on?" John looked at Sherlock. Sherlock gave John a droll look before going back to his phone. "Of course I get no response." John whispered to himself.

"Because it merits no response. You're not stupid, so why don't you just think?" He replied coolly, pocketing his cell and resting into the seats, paying the other no attention.

"What? Am supposed to guess what case you're on?" John asked.

"My case is none of your concern." He sniffed. "Ah, here we are."

He quickly handed the cabbie the money owed and once again grabbed the others wrist and dragged him from the cab.

"Why are you here?"

Sherlock glanced in the direction the irate voice came from. Lestrade was storming towards the two.

"I said you have to watch the kid, not bring him here!"

Sherlock ignored the man entirely and muttered, "Wait here." To John before briskly walking off to the crime scene. John crossed his arms glaring at Sherlock, "Whatever."

Lestrade watched as Sherlock walked low to the ground, all but sniffing it as he looked for clues. His trusty pocket magnifier in hand as he studied tracks, noted marks, crushed grass or flowers, disheveled shrubbery. It didn't take long before a call of, "Lestrade!", broke the detectives concentration and he strode off to see what Sherlock found. John's cell phone vibrated in his coat pocket. He pulled it out. It was his boss texting him.

**Call. Now. –JM**

John dialed the number waiting for him to pick up as he went to an area with less people around.

"It's about time." The lilting voice grumbled from the other side of the phone.

"Sherlock is keeping a close eye on me." John told him.

"Well, that's to be expected. What do you have to report?" He replied in a cheerful voice before he all but growled out, "You DO have something to report, right?"

"So far I can't seem to get anything out of him." John reported.

"You're just not looking." Came the reply, frustration lacing the voice. "What has he been doing the entire time you've been there?"

"I've been trying to talk to him. I can't search, he never leaves me alone."

"John, you're not listening. What has **he** been doing, not you."

"Going over a case file. He's at the crime scene now." John told him.

"Interesting." The man murmured. John could tell his boss' mind was turning. "What does the crime scene look like?"

"It seems to have happened inside the house, but the culprit was outside in the garden. I see a bullet the police missed lodged into the windowsill." John stated.

"Police are incompetent after all." He said, pitching his voice into a high lilt in mockery. "What is Sherlock doing at this moment?"

"Talking to DI Lestrade." John answered.

"Interesting. Can you hear what they're talking about?"

"No, but I know Sherlock found something." John looked over.

"Keep me posted. And John? Don't disappoint me."

"Yes Sir."

With that his boss hung up. John put the phone in his pocket and went back to where he had been standing, hoping Sherlock hadn't noticed.

"Where have you been?"

John whirled around to see Sherlock looking at him in a disapproving manner. "I said wait here, not 'wander off and use your phone'." The taller man had walked into his personal space once more. "Listen to me, or else your life will be in more danger than just from being possibly sniped."

"Who would want to kill me?" John asked.

Sherlock just stared at him, and then looked at Lestrade who also shook his head. "Did you forget everything you told us or..?" Lestrade asked in reference to the bruises and apparent brutal attack.

"I was caught off guard that usually doesn't happen to me." John said quickly.

Sherlock gave John a knowing look but let the matter drop, telling the same to Lestrade.

"So when are we leaving?" John asked.

"Now." Sherlock replied, walking briskly down the street, head tilted to glance at the yards he felt the perpetrator had ran through for any visual evidence. John followed close behind Sherlock, "You don't trust me."

"Obviously not." He murmured before quickly walking up someones walkway. He bent down, pulled out his magnifying glass to study something before picking up an object and shoving it in his pocket before walking back to the street and continuing on.

"Why not?" John asked.

"You've been lying through your teeth since I saw you. Would you trust a person doing that? No? Thought so."

John was in disbelief, "How did you know?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "You don't really think you can fool me, do you? You didn't actually look me up or you'd know my reputation."

"True." John agreed.

Sherlock said no more as he hailed a cab at the end of the street and they returned to 221B. John went in and hurried to his room, hoping to avoid any contact with Sherlock. The man smirked as he made his way to his chair and began to play a slow composition of his own as he mulled the details in his head.

* * *

**Winterimperfect plays Sherlock, Lestrade, Moriarty, Sebastian, Mycroft (Through out the story)**

**Bella Watson-Holmes Plays John, Molly (Through out the story)**

**All Mormor and action bits are by Winterimperfect.**


	4. Chapter 4

John laid in bed, trying to forget the man he was supposed to kill who saw straight through him. His phone vibrated and he pulled it out, checking the message.

**Go outside at once. - JM**

John scrunched his face up before getting up and throwing on some clothes. He listened for Sherlock's violin but didn't hear it and assumed the man had finally gone to sleep. He slipped down the stairs and made his way to the door. He carefully listened for any movement from the other occupant, but at the lack of any noise he swiftly left the apartment building, only to be grabbed roughly.

"Get him in the car!"

John tried to see who had grabbed him, struggling viciously against the man holding his arms behind his back. He tried to kick back at the man but was instantly struck down with a blow to the back. He fell to his knees, seeing stars.

"John!"

The young man looked blearily up at the voice shouting his name, shocked at the sight of Sherlock in a t-shirt and pajama pants. Barefoot.

The tall man dashed forward, decking the man holding him so hard that he flew back, slamming into the ground a few feet away. John looked on in shock as the guy who grabbed him scrambled to his feet and ran off, jumping into the car that was idling nearby and zooming off.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock panted into John's ear, checking him over before picking him up in his arms bridal style.

"You are a right idiot to just leave the house like that. Why are people just so bloody stupid." The man muttered, anger lacing his voice as he kicked the door closed behind him after ascending the steps. He unceremoniously dropped John into his chair.

John wasn't entirely sure what Sherlock had said because he was still dazed from the attempted kidnapping, the young man just looked up at Sherlock in shock. Sherlock had saved him. He saw someone different from the man he had met only five days ago. John got over the shock of everything.

"I'm sorry." John said.

Sherlock stared down incredulously at John. "You're sorry? For what? Being an idiot? Lying? Ignoring everything I say? Not listening?"

"Can't you deduce that on your own, you see right through me." John stated.

Sherlock waved a hand. "I'm assuming it's all of the above simply to save you time in the future for realizing how ridiculous you are."

"I never had any reason to believe someone was after me. You're right. I should have listened." John said.

Sherlock didn't even dignify that with an answer; he snorted and made his way to the kitchen. "Tea?" He asked, putting the kettle on. He didn't wait for an answer as he pulled out two mugs knowing the other would take tea as well.

"Why did you save me?" John asked.

"You're under my watch. It's my duty." Sherlock replied, adding the hot water to the mugs after the kettle whistled.

"Do you know why I am here?" John asked, curious if Sherlock knew the answer.

"I don't know, do I?" Sherlock murmured evasively, handing John his tea exactly how he liked it. John looked up in slight shock as the taller man smirked over his tea cup.

"You saw I was lying, I would assume you figured why I am here." John said taking a small sip of his tea.

Sherlock went quiet, refusing to divulge further knowledge. He simply sipped at his tea and didn't talk for a long time. John drank his tea watching Sherlock, "Do you stay silent like this all the time?"

"I can go silent for days. Leave me alone when it happens for I do not wish to talk." He murmured, taking a sip of tea before going back into his silence.

"Days." John whispered. The dark haired man finished his tea, staring out the window with a blank expression. John's phone went off; he pulled it out and saw he had a new message.

**He knows. Hurry your mission up. -JM**

John placed his phone back in his pocket not bothering to respond. Sherlock reached a hand up and began unbuttoning his shirt; he stood up gracefully and made his way to his room, shedding his shirt on the way in. He slipped into pajamas and a dressing gown before curling up on the couch, lost in thought.

"I really am sorry for everything." John said, starting for his room hoping Sherlock heard him. The tall man grunted his response, rolling onto his side as he continued to mull over the details. John just sat on the steps waiting. He started to realize not only was his mission at risk, he was starting to have feelings for the man in only five days. He didn't even imagine that was possible.

Sherlock was lost in his mind. He went over key parts of the investigation, tossed in what he noticed today during his search- six foot tall man stood outside a window and ran off when someone shot at him from the sidewalk. Who? Found no conclusive evidence due to many people walking there thanks to the idiocy of the police. His mind skipped over to John. He went over what he knew- The boy was in the drug ring, was purposely tossed in his way, lied through his teeth, only sustained superficial wounds and bruising. Purposefully placed to look realistic, but not actually real. He was most likely a spy or assassin. Sherlock sighed, rolling some more as he continued to sort and place his thoughts in his mind palace.

John went to the front door ready to leave but he stopped. "Damn." he whispered.

Sherlock rolled over and looked at John. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere." John answered.

Sherlock snorted but dropped the issue.

"Did you find the bullet today at the crime scene?" John asked not sure he should ask.

"Obviously." Sherlock murmured, "Unlike the police I don't make such obvious mistakes."

"I see why DI Lestrade comes to you for help." John said.

Sherlocks mouth twitched into a small smile before it dropped again and he stretched, popping the muscles of his back as he sat up.

John noticed the smile, "You just smiled."

"Did I now?" He drawled, glancing at John.

* * *

**Winterimperfect plays Sherlock, Lestrade, Moriarty, Sebastian, Mycroft (Through out the story)**

**Bella Watson-Holmes Plays John, Molly (Through out the story)**

**All Mormor and action bits are by Winterimperfect.**


	5. Chapter 5

"John."

John glanced up sharply in surprise, not having heard Sherlock ascend the stairs to his room.

"I have a place to be and you cannot come with me. You will stay here. Do not move from this apartment."

The younger of the two snorted in displeasure, but nodded. "I won't."

Sherlock regarded him before swiftly turning on his heel and hurrying down the steps before leaving. He heard him tell Mrs. Hudson that she should make sure John didn't leave the apartment. After some quick banter, he heard the main door close and knew he was alone.

He huffed, rubbed a hand over his face before pulling out his phone and sending a quick text.

**Send me my rifle – JW**

After an affirmative reply, John got dressed swiftly and made his way slowly down the stairs. He had to wait for the perfect opportunity to slip out and prepare himself. He had noted the building across was unoccupied and seemed to be the best place to set up. He had at least a half hour to spare prior to his precious cargo arriving at the doorstep.

John paced, trying to figure out the best way to slip past Mrs. Hudson when he heard her call out, "Now you stay put, I'll be just a minute." Before leaving.

He hurried to the window and watched as she disappeared amongst the crowd on the street. He almost giggled in delight as he slipped down the stairs and out the door, jogging quickly across the street. After a few minutes of waiting in the doorway of the abandoned building, a man in a black suit arrived, handing him his case. He nodded at the man before making quick work of the lock and getting into the building.

He set up and waited, every few minutes he checked over his set up until he finally spotted the form of the consulting detective going into the house. He looked through his scope and lined up his shot. As he went to pull the trigger, he hesitated.

He felt an unknown emotion and a sudden urge of abandoning his mission. He took a deep breath and went to line up his shot again but froze. He could tell Sherlock was calling for him, but the movements and look on the mans face went straight to Johns heart. He couldn't do it. He put his head in his hands and groaned. He **had** to do it.

John steeled his resolve and pulled the trigger, knowing he hadn't lined up properly and was more than likely damning himself.

John quickly put his sniper rifle away, heart was racing he had to hurry back and make up a good excuse. He hid his weapon and saw Ms. Hudson and smiled, perfect excuse to use.

Sherlock turned just in time to just get a grazed cheek as the bullet entered the window and flew past his face. He hurried forward to check to see the trajectory the bullet came from, but was distracted as he saw a form quickly dart from the window across the street. He squinted before he went to hurry upstairs to make sure the sniper didn't get John and that's why the boy didn't answer his calls.

As he went to go upstairs he heard the front door open and he poked his head to look down. Mrs. Hudson came in holding the groceries with John not far behind.

"I thought I told you to stay in the apartment." He called down to John who looked up at him.

"I went to get something to eat since somebody puts body parts in his fridge instead of actual food." The boy retorted before bringing the grocery bags to the landladies apartment. She thanked him and he hurried upstairs.

"So, where's your food then?" Sherlock asked, cocking a brow at the boys empty hands.

"I bumped into Mrs. Hudson on the way and decided to help her out instead. Is that so wrong?" He sniffed before brushing past the tall man to head to his room.

'Alcohol. Copper solvent. Gun powder. Dirty knees. Paint chippings. Dust on his shirt sleeve.' Sherlock noted and narrowed his eyes. 'It couldn't be..' He thought, pacing across the living room deep in thought.

Sherlock glanced at the kitchen floor and grabbed tweezers and a random jar he had hanging around. He pulled what was left of the bullet from the floor and tossed it into the jar. Evidence.

He glanced up the stairs and shook his head. He wouldn't confront the boy until he had all the information needed to end this case.

John closed his bedroom door, heart racing with the knowledge that his boss knew he failed. He had been taught sentiment was a chemical defect. He was usually good at not having any feelings but this time he couldn't avoid them. Sherlock was sure to know that John was the sniper, but he held out hope the consulting detective hadn't figured it out. Now all John had was to wait for his boss to call.

–

From a doorway a few houses down, a tall man dragged on his cigarette as he pulled out his phone and sent a text.

**He failed. -SM**

* * *

**Winterimperfect plays Sherlock, Lestrade, Moriarty, Sebastian, Mycroft (Through out the story)**

**Bella Watson-Holmes Plays John, Molly (Through out the story)**

**All Mormor and action bits are by Winterimperfect.**


	6. Chapter 6

John lay in bed knowing he'd get a call at some point. Shortly after that thought, his phone rang. John grabbed it and he made sure his bedroom door was closed. He took a deep breath and answered the call.

"Hello." John answered nervously, waiting for the man to start scolding him.

"What were you doing, yesterday?" Came the growled voice of his boss. "Miss? Really? My second best sniper and you **missed**?!"

"Sorry, I got distracted." John told him.

"Let me guess, his ass was so nice you just **had** to stare and miss by a mile." He snarled. "Give me a reason right now to not have Sebastian put a bullet through your skull."

"I... I..." John couldn't get the words out.

"I'm waiting." He sing-songed, but that didn't take the anger out of his voice.

"I can't give you a good reason." John lied.

"Fine." John could hear Moriarty pulling the phone away and calling out, "Sebastian. Shoot this idiot."

"Wait!" John yelled, his heart racing.

"I'm listening."

"I let my emotions get to me. It won't happen again." John was begging for his life.

"Oh, sentiment. What is the point of it?" He heard a sigh on the other end, "You have one more chance. Mess it up and I'll flay you alive and use your hide as a dust jacket."

"Understood."

John heard the phone hang off; he felt like someone had kicked him in the chest. John couldn't miss again or it meant his death. He decided to go get some food. He put his phone on his nightstand, getting out of bed and ready to go downstairs.

Sherlock looked up from where he was studying some evidence when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Ah, Lestrade." He called out as the man walked in. The Detective Inspector glanced up at the other and handed him an envelope.

"Some evidence just came up that I thought you'd like to see." He explained, "If I hadn't you'd have just taken it off my desk anyway."

Sherlock let a smirk slide over his face as he opened it up and studied it.

"Did you know that someone tried to shoot me the other day?" Sherlock asked Lestrade, who looked at him in shock.

"While there are times I'd love to, you didn't tell me. In fact, I don't even think you called to report it in. Are you mad?" Lestrade exclaimed, rounding on Sherlock who just shrugged. "Didn't see the point. It didn't hit me."

Lestrade sighed wearily.

John walked in and looked at Lestrade and then at Sherlock, before going into the kitchen.

Sherlock glanced at John then back at Lestrade. "If it happens again I'll let you know." Sherlock stated while his eyes slid to John.

Lestrade wasn't quite sure if he got exactly what the other was hinting at but had a feeling.

"Damn." The DI muttered. "Well, I have to go. Text me if anymore bullets decide to attempt to lodge themselves in your brain, alright?"

John knew Sherlock was on to him, "So someone shot at you?" He asked Sherlock.

Sherlock glanced at John. "How nice of you to notice. I was wondering why you didn't seem to ask me why there was a hole in the window, it was almost like you knew all along."

"I noticed. I just... didn't think you'd tell me anything." John said. Sherlock gave him a droll look before opening up his laptop and getting to work.

"Did the bullet hit you?" John asked knowing the answer already to the question.

"Last I looked I was breathing."

"Yeah I see that." John retorted.

Sherlock gave him a pointed look before going back to his computer screen before closing it, muttering, "I need to go to the morgue and look at the body." He ran a hand over his face and punched out a text. He groaned when he received a negative answer. "Of course I can't go today. Why did it have to be that person there today?"

"The victim from the crime scene you took me to I assume." John said.

"Yes." He hissed out, threading his fingers through his hair in frustration. "The morgue will have to wait until tomorrow, unfortunately." He sighed.

"Why are you so interested in the body?"

"It might have something I'm missing to complete this case." Sherlock replied, pushing his laptop onto the table and sighing. "I could go for a cigarette right about now."

"Do you have any?" John asked.

"I quit." He muttered, pushing his sleeve up to show various nicotine patches.

"Why that many patches?" John asked.

"Why not?"

"That is too many! I mean isn't that bad for you." John said. Sherlock scoffed, shaking his head in a silent chuckle. "Don't you care about your health at all?"

"Everything else is transport." Sherlock murmured, looking off into the distance out the window in a dismissing gesture.

"I don't get it... It is like you don't care about yourself, haven't you met someone that..." John trailed off.

Sherlocks gaze lazily slid over to John, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

"Have you ever been in love with someone at all in your life?" John asked curiously.

"No. Love is just a chemical reaction in your brain that makes you an idiot. I have no need of it." Sherlock said.

"So you prefer to be alone the rest of your life?" John asked.

"Not like I'll live long anyway." Sherlock murmured before looking at John, "All I want is work, I need nothing else, least of all romance."

"No wonder you can't see it." John murmured.

"See what?"

"What is right in front of you." John simply said. Sherlock looked at John, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Think... you're a genius." John said annoyed.

"This is pointless." Sherlock drawled, turning to look out the window. "I have no reason to play games with you."

"I never said it was game." John walked off to his room.

Sherlock pulled out his phone and sent a text.

**When are you in the morgue? -SH**

He really needed to get back on the case. His boredom was elevating.

* * *

**Winterimperfect plays Sherlock, Lestrade, Moriarty, Sebastian, Mycroft (Through out the story)**

**Bella Watson-Holmes Plays John, Molly (Through out the story)**

**All Mormor and action bits are by Winterimperfect.**


	7. Chapter 7

John woke with a start when he heard a loud sound. He went to sit up and heard a loud clanging sound and found he couldn't move his wrist.

His eyes shot open and he looked up into the glasz eyes of Sherlock Holmes. His eyes darted up and saw one of his wrists shackled to the bedpost.

"I'm going to the morgue. Do not move. This time I'm insuring it." Sherlock stated in a low, even voice as he made his way to the door.

He gave the shorter man a pointed look before he left with a flourish, jogging down the stairs and out into the streets.

John sighed, rubbing his face with his free hand as he pushed himself up, painfully rearranging his arm until it was in a comfortable position. He then reached onto the side table and picked up a discarded paper clip. He shook his head before unbending it and placing it into the lock. With a twist and a tug, the cuff fell free and he stood up, rubbing his wrist.

"He must have known I could do that.." John muttered, looking to where the handcuff now rested open on the bed.

John dressed quickly before making his way out and across the street to set himself up for when Sherlock returned. He wouldn't miss this time.

–

"He probably picked the lock by now." Sherlock murmured to himself as he carried his large parcel to the street before hailing a cab to take him back home. Molly wouldn't be at the morgue until the afternoon, but John didn't know that.

He glanced out the window as the cab pulled up in front of his home. He could see movement in the window across. He smiled and told the cabbie to wait a few seconds before he could get his parcel. He entered the house, making sure John saw him enter.

John scurried to his rifle when he saw Sherlock enter the house. He began checking his weapon over, making sure he could in no way miss. A few minutes of making sure everything was alright and he looked up, squinting to make out where Sherlock was in the apartment. He saw him in his favorite chair and lined up his shot. He fired, knowing he killed the obnoxious man he was stuck with. He let out a sigh, ignoring the anguished scream that filled him.

As he pulled out his phone to text Moriarty that he had finished his mission, a low drawl made him drop his phone.

"You missed."

John slowly turned around to where he saw Sherlock leaning against the wall behind him, obviously having been there for quite some time.

"Eh? But?" John stammered, pointing out the window to where he saw a figure.

"Ballistic gelatin bust." He explained, "Fooled you pretty good."

Lestrade hurried into the room.

"So, you were right after all." Lestrade regarded Sherlock. "Pity." He sighed.

"I under estimated you." John stood up, leaving his sniper rifle on the ground.

"That you apparently have." Sherlock sniffed.

"I don't see the police anywhere." John said looking at Sherlock.

"Oh, you didn't notice the people strangely hanging out in random doorways around the building?" Lestrade asked, making sure to block off the exit to the room in case things got hairy.

"I am a dead man anyways; I will probably be dead before I leave this room." John checked his phone.

You failed. I only need one sniper after all. – JM

"I am surprised you haven't had me arrested yet." John said, looking at Sherlock.

"Well, you haven't actually killed me, now has he, Lestrade?" Sherlock said, glancing at Lestrade who looked at him in shock. "No, but he bloody well tried to you idiot!"

"Of course I tired! It was my job!" John yelled.

"One that you failed. I do believe that causes reason for me to continue having you under my protection." Sherlock said.

"If I leave here... As soon as I step outside I will have a bullet in my head." John told them.

"I don't think so, not if I can help it." Sherlock replied.

"How the hell did you know anyways?" John asked.

"How did I know it was you?" Sherlock asked, snapping his fingers as he spun on his heel, pacing the length of the room as he began. "When you came in it happened to be rather convenient owing to the fact I just saw someone run from the room across, and then suddenly you were downstairs helping Mrs. Hudson. I can tell from the strain on her face and the bunching of her arm muscles that you had only recently taken a bag from her. By recently, I mean just before she opened the door. You also glanced to the left quickly. You're really bad at lying." He began, rambling on, "Once you came up I noticed that you had old paint chips under your fingernails, most likely from bracing your hand against a window frame and curling your fingers. You had dust on your knees and shirt sleeve, most likely from kneeling on a floor that hasn't been cleaned for a while and bracing your arm on the window. You didn't get that here, and I doubt you knelt in the street for Mrs. Hudson. There was also the smell of copper solvent and alcohol on you, not to mention gunpowder. This really doesn't take a rocket scientist to guess what you were doing, now was it?"

"You can see all that but you..." John stopped talking annoyed again.

Lestrade glanced at John. "He has no concept of emotions. You have to tell him to his face, kid."

Sherlock glanced at Lestrade, confused.

"I doubt he wants to know, I am just some kid he has to protect now." John said to Lestrade.

"What don't I know?" Sherlock asked, looking at Lestrade and John in turn.

"What you don't know and that you can't see is..." John had a hard time getting the words out.

"Is..?" Sherlock looked questioningly at Lestrade who threw his hands up in the air. "He likes you, you git!"

Sherlock stared at Lestrade for a moment, eyes wide, and then slowly looked at John for confirmation.

"What he said..." John said.

Sherlock raised a brow, slightly confused and still not getting it. Lestrade put his hand to his face, sighing in frustration at how dimwitted the genius could be sometimes. John just stared at Sherlock confused himself.

"He doesn't understand. You might have to... I don't know. Show him or something." Lestrade muttered, still leaving his head in his hand in disbelief.

"What, you're telling me to kiss the man I just tried to kill?" John asked.

"Well, you're the one who apparently has feelings for him and regardless of it you decided to kill him anyway." Lestrade muttered, staring at the boy.

John got lost in thought and before he even realized it he was kissing Sherlock. Sherlock froze and just stood there, staring owlishly down at John in confusion, his eyes darting to Lestrade who shrugged before going back to John. John just backed off not even sure what to say. Sherlock slowly raised a hand to his mouth and glanced between the two, confusion evident on his face.

"Just say something, please." John said looking at Sherlock.

"I.. I don't know what to say. I'm flattered but…" Sherlock began, stammering slightly and glancing at Lestrade for advice. The older man simply shook his head and turned his back on Sherlock.

"Man, I feel like an idiot." John whispered to himself.

Sherlock stared around the room, trying to gather his thoughts and figure out what to say.

"Shall we… go back home?" Sherlock murmured, already heading towards the door.

"Yeah." John answered, dropping his phone to the ground as he followed shortly behind.


	8. Chapter 8

Lestrade brought up the rear as Sherlock kept John covered, keeping an eye out for any potential snipers, though they had the police already cover the roofs and upper floors of buildings. They got into the apartment, surprisingly, without incident. John sat in the chair by the fireplace, mostly waiting for Sherlock to say something to him.

John felt like he had been stabbed in the heart, he knew what Sherlock was going to say. It was the 'I am married to my work' speech. John heard it before once when he was fourteen.

"I'm sorry." Sherlock finally murmured, staring out the window. "I don't understand these feelings you have. Maybe one day I will, but as of right now, I only have room for work in my head."

"The last time I heard that I never saw the guy again." John said looking at Sherlock.

"You'll be seeing a lot of me." The taller man replied, gracefully standing up. "You're moving in, after all."

"Moving in?" John asked confused.

"You need to be protected from your previous boss, now don't you?"

"Yeah, just surprised you want to keep me here... I just tried killing you and now you know I have feelings for you." John said.

"You missed on purpose. It was only fear of your own life that fueled you to try again. You also subconsciously knew that wasn't me." Sherlock said.

"How did you know I missed on purpose?"

Sherlock smiled. "If that man hired you as a sniper to kill me, you must be quite the crack shot."

"Second best." John said.

"Still a good shot." Sherlock murmured. "I take it the one above you is Colonel Sebastian Moran. The second most dangerous man in London."

"Yeah, he hates me."

"Oh? Why is that?" Sherlock looked over, his curiosity piqued.

"I am almost as good as he is..."

"Ah, I thought it was something more interesting. Even I can tell you're good. The reason he's better is his lack of conscience." Sherlock explained.

"Right." John was turning red.

"What's wrong? Are you feverish?" Sherlock drawled, an amused glint shining in his eyes.

"No, just embarrassed."

"About what?" He asked, confused.

"You" John answered.

Sherlock looked at him, brow furrowed in confusion. "Pardon?"

"I don't think you understand." John said.

"I apparently don't. Care to enlighten me?" Sherlock asked.

"I kissed you, regardless of my fear that you'd reject me. I am starting to... I guess, fall in love with you." John enlightened him.

Sherlock regarded John, "I'll keep your feelings in mind. I do not understand them as I said before. It's hard to feel anything to someone who has done nothing but lie."

"Fair enough." John said disappointed.

Sherlock turned his body and looked at John. "So, are you going to be honest with me from now on? The only things I know about you are what I've deduced since the minute I saw you."

"Yeah"

"Great." Sherlock murmured, looking back out the window.

"Did you figure out who runs the drug ring?" John asked.

"If all my evidence is correct, it is one James Moriarty at the center of this web. He's made it in such a way it's near impossible to catch him." He eyed John. "I hope your loyalty no longer lies with him, though it's no matter. He already knows what I'm going to do anyways."

"Moriarty does have one weakness." John said suddenly.

Sherlock looked up, ears perked. "Really, now?" He murmured, looking to the side. "His defenses looked pretty solid from what I saw."

"Not completely, Sebastian is his only weakness... Because not only is Sebastian his right hand man he is also his lover."

Sherlock felt his eyebrows raise slightly. "I can honestly admit that is not something I saw."

"Jim keeps it a secret, I am the only one who knows, aside from you now." John said.

"I didn't even think Moriarty was capable of love." The tall man replied, leaning back and placing his feet on the table.

"I thought you were a freak when I first met you." John stated, changing the subject.

Sherlock muttered out, "Everyone does."

"They are wrong." John smiled.

"Oh? What changed your opinion?" He drawled, obviously chafed that he had called him a freak before

"You saved me... And you didn't have to."

Sherlock snorted. "I have no reason to see people killed in front of me. I would've saved anyone that was about to be kidnapped or murdered."

"I wouldn't have been killed, I was set up."

Sherlock nodded, going back to stare out the window.

* * *

**Winterimperfect plays Sherlock, Lestrade, Moriarty, Sebastian, Mycroft (Through out the story)**

**Bella Watson-Holmes Plays John, Molly (Through out the story)**

**All Mormor and action bits are by Winterimperfect.**


	9. Chapter 9

Sherlock was sitting in his chair, going over some of the case file when he heard footsteps ascending the staircase. He recognized the foot falls and groaned.

"Why, hello, Mycroft." Sherlock called out, his features pinched at the prospect of meeting his brother.

"Hello, brother." Mycroft replied, leaning his umbrella on the wall next to the door as he made his way into the flat.

"Whatever brings you here, brother dearest? Normally you send your dogs for little errands."

Mycroft handed over a large manila envelope, much to Sherlock's surprise. "It's not a social call. Lestrade told me about your..." He looked to the side to gather the words, "Little charge. Tried to shoot you did he? Here's everything about one John Watson. I didn't want any of my 'dogs' as you call them to screw up so I came myself."

The elder Holmes sat himself on the couch, facing Sherlock as the taller man opened the folder and began scanning the documents.

"Interesting, yeah? I figured you'd like to know about whom you're shacking up with."

"Interesting indeed." Sherlock murmured, slowly studying the files.

"Anyways, must be on my way." Mycroft stated, standing up just in time to see someone descending the stairs from the top level of the flat.

John regarded Mycroft with curiosity, wondering who this stuffy red-head was.

"Good day, Sherlock, Watson." Mycroft said with a stiff smile before picking up his umbrella and making his way down the stairs.

Sherlock took the boys lingering stare at his brother for granted and quickly stuffed the papers back into the envelope and slid it under himself to hide it. He didn't want John to know he now knew everything about him.

John went into the kitchen to make some tea but stopped short before starting to build up the courage that was needed for his request.

The blonde took a deep breath and turned to look at Sherlock.

"Can we go shopping?"

The brunette looked at him owlishly, "Why would you want to do something so…Boring?"

"If I'm to live here I need clothes, necessities, stuff! I can't go get my things, that's like having a bulls-eye on my back, especially since I live in the same high rise as Jim and Sebastian!"

Sherlock nodded, "I see... I take it you have no money either."

John shook his head negatively and the taller man let out a sigh and was about to hand over his credit card when the other raised a hand.

"You're taking me. You know the area around here, I don't."

Sherlock nearly pouted at the prospect of shopping. What a waste of his intellect and energy.

"I know the streets, but not the stores. It would overall be easier to go by yourself. I don't care what you buy or for how much. Money means little to me." Sherlock sniffed, heading towards his armchair when John grabbed his arm.

"You're my bodyguard aren't you? What if someone makes an attempt on my life and I die because my bodyguard is too egotistical to do some shopping."

The brunette groaned. He was right. Lestrade would have his hide. He sighed and acquiesced to the request, sulkily going into his room to get dressed while John did the same with a skip in his step.

Sherlock called out to Mrs. Hudson to say they were leaving as they went down the stairs and to make sure no one came into their rooms until they got back. Sherlock went to wave for a cab when John snagged his arm and shook his head.

"There should be some stores in walking distance, no? I prefer that. I don't really like cabs."

The blonde stared at the other stubbornly when the taller man gave him an acidic look. John grabbed Sherlock's wrist and all but dragged him down the street, looking back and forth for possible places to shop. The brunette heaved a sigh before taking charge and directing John to a clothing store.

–

Sherlock slumped in his armchair gratefully after being forced to shop with the blonde boy for nearly three hours. The other had already went to bed, taking with him the bags of clothes, toiletries and electronics. With a deep sigh, the brunette made himself some plain toast, eating it to regain some energy for him to focus on what was to come.

* * *

**Winterimperfect wrote all of this chapter since I have been moving I did help with the idea for the chapter and to warn you updates might be late.**


	10. Chapter 10

Short legs strode briskly down the hall. One hand drummed out an agitated tune while the other curled around a phone, gripping it so hard that the knuckles appeared white.

Teeth clenched and the short man stopped in the middle of the hall to yell out, "What the hell do you mean you lost the entire product? It's not your fault? The hell it isn't. Don't shove this on Anthony, you imbecile. That's the third one in a month. Don't play stupid, I know you're keeping it to sell for your own profit. I gave you a chance, you blew it two-fold."

He jabbed at the off button before spinning on his heel and marching into the den, "Sebastian. Shoot the fuck out of Paul."

Sebastian nodded, a smirk on his lips, "He's always with a prostitute around eleven at night. I think I'll pay him a visit."

He walked up to the huffing man and kissed him quickly, "You're bloody hot when you're mad. Now, if you'll excuse me, sir. I best get to cleaning my revolver and pay him a visit."

"Your revolver?" He asked, looking surprised at the taller man.

"He doesn't deserve the effort of my rifle." Sebastian explained, before turning on his heel and exiting the room.

Moriarty fell onto the couch, a groan escaping him as he placed a hand on his face. Why did his underlings hire such asinine filth?

"This wouldn't happen if I could hand pick the lowest of the low." He muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose before picking up the controller and putting the telly on, switching to a channel that played cartoons and felt himself feeling better about the feeble-minded thief.

"You know that if you hired everyone yourself people would know who you are and what you looked like so that when they'd get arrested they would drop your name or at least describe you. This would all be for naught then." Sebastian muttered while walking behind him with his gun cleaning kit on the way to the kitchen.

He paused quickly to put a hand on the smaller mans shoulders and press a kiss to the top of his head. "That's also why John's betrayal is so painful to you. He knows who you are, and now he's with someone attached to the police."

"Why should they believe a killer? Not like it matters, the man he's with already knows who I am. He's trying to create a web around me to capture me as well as everyone else in my kingdom." The smaller man growled, holding onto Sebastian's hand tightly. He would not let anything happen to his Sebastian.

The ginger just chuckled before continuing his journey to the kitchen where he began to lovingly care for his gun.

Moriarty slumped on the couch, watching the cartoons in a bored manner. He was keeping a low profile due to Holmes' interest in him, but it was starting to drive him mad to just stay indoors most of the time.

He heard humming coming from the kitchen and felt a smirk glide across his face. That was one of Sebastian's quirks. He liked to hum and sing. He didn't look like someone who would have an ounce of grace, what with his slicked back ginger locks and stubble, his sharp intelligent eyes, and hard freckled face. But aside from his gruff talking voice, the man could sing.

Moriarty tilted his head back, thinking about how he liked rubbing his cheek against Sebastian's stubbled cheeks. It was something he found insanely sexy; no clue why. He wrenched his thoughts from that road. It wouldn't be wise to drag Sebastian from his revolver for a roll in the sack, it would delay the murder of that dense thief.

The smaller man found himself sliding down into a slump as he let his brain go numb while watching pointless cartoons. He wanted Sebastian to have this all taken care of so he could fuck him then discuss what to do about Johnny-boy.

By the time Sebastian finished, cleaned up and left the kitchen, Moriarty was face down on the couch, both arms hanging over the armrest of the leather couch. The ginger-haired man raised a brow slightly before crouching down in front of the dangling arms and gently blew air onto the other mans arms. He knew the smaller man hated this with all his being.

"Stop it!" He squeaked, jerking back and sliding out of the blows reach. Of course, in doing so he managed to stay face down and just slid his knees under his chest, raising his arse high and proud.

The taller man stood, bit back a grin and wacked the smaller mans arse, chuckling as the other bitched him out as he made his way to the door.

"Be back in an hour. Do wait up, Jim."

Moriarty was busy pouting in the corner of the couch now. How dare he slap his ass. Sebastian would pay.

–

It didn't take long for Sebastian to find Paul and the prostitute in a back alley not far from his flat. The short, fat, grimy little man had the strung out wench face down in garbage bags as he screwed her. Sebastian twisted up his face in disgust and simply lifted his revolver and shot him right in the head. The man was dead by the time he hit the ground. The prostitute screamed, righted herself, eyed him shakily as she reached towards the dead mans wallet.

"Take everything, I have no use for it. Here's for having to put up with this." Sebastian murmured, handing the prostitute a bag of cocaine. She reminded him of his sister, who died of a drug overdose when she couldn't handle being a prostitute no more.

The blonde woman slowly took the baggie, eying him like he was going to trick her, but he smiled tersely before turning around and stalking out of the alley, his gun already tucked back into the holster hidden by his thigh-length ulster.

He knew that she knew not to rat on him; she saw what he could do and didn't want to be facing the barrel of his gun. He quickly walked back to the high rise they were residing in. It wasn't that far of a walk.

He entered the flat and made his way down the hall and into the den where he found Moriarty snoozing lightly on the couch. The other smiled and made his way into the bathroom to shower. He wanted to get the smell of grime off him.

He quickly shed his clothes, studied his long, muscular and freckle-covered arms to make sure he had no blood on him. When he was in the clear of it, he turned the faucets until it was a desirable temperature and stepped into the spray.

He had just rinsed the soap out of his ginger locks when he heard the door open and saw the silhouette of Moriarty. He pushed the dangling locks out of his eyes and peeked around the curtain to see the smaller man blinking sleepily as he relieved himself in the toilet.

"Flush and I'll break your neck." Sebastian growled as he saw the other reach for the handle. Moriarty quickly pulled his hand back.

"Sorry. I didn't notice you in the shower."

Sleepy Moriarty was the cutest thing the taller man had ever seen. He looked and acted like a child and was nearly oblivious to everything. The only reason that hasn't been his downfall is that he can snap out of it if danger presented itself, but if there is none, he could be like this for hours.

"I'll be in the bedroom." The smaller man mumbled, a hand under his shirt and scratching at his smooth belly, his pinky twirling his happy-trail a little as he stared sleepily at Sebastian.

Moriarty made his way over and stretched up to kiss the lips of the assassin, before smiling at the other and making his way out of the bathroom.

The sniper shook his head, smiling slightly as he lathered soap up in a washcloth and began washing his body, finishing up with a quick swipe over his face. The tan he has from being outside so often made him look almost permanently dirty; it was an annoyance, but it kept people away from him. It had it's uses. At least Moriarty didn't think he was dirty.

He finished up, turned off the water and quickly toweled himself dry. He wrapped the towel around his waist and made his way to the bedroom. He opened the door to see his smaller lover curled in an almost feline fashion on the bed. He smirked before dropping his towel and making his way to the wardrobe to pull out a pair of loose jogging pants for the night.

"No..."

Sebastian glanced over his shoulder to see Moriarty reaching out to him, wiggling his fingers in a come-hither fashion. The sniper cocked a brow before making his way over to see what was the others problem. When he was in reach, Moriarty wrapped his arms around the slim, freckled hips and nuzzled the tall mans hip bone.

He felt himself stirring and pried the smaller man off him, knowing he was in no shape for a quick screw. He quickly pulled the jogging pants on much to the others chagrin. He sat down on the bed and looked at Moriarty.

"I'm thinking of doing it tomorrow."

The brunette glanced up at the taller man, a questioning look in his gaze before it clicked what he was talking about.

"Don't underestimate Sherlock, Seb." Moriarty murmured, wiggling himself until he was half in Sebastian's lap.

"I won't. He'll know to expect me, but perhaps not so soon? I was thinking of doing it from the same building John tried it. Of course, sentiment won't cause me to miss." The ginger murmured, holding Moriarty to his chest in a loving fashion.

"He's a threat to you. I have no feelings of respect for him anymore, not like I did anyways. No one will ruin you."

Moriarty looked up at him, raised a hand and rested it against the stubbled cheek and whispered, "Don't get killed."

* * *

**Winterimperfect wrote this chapter.**


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning was a rather dreary morning. It was raining out and John didn't want to leave his bed due to the gloom. He dragged his phone over and looked up the weather report. By night time it would clear up from the look of it. He groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes and staring blandly out the window.

He slowly made his way downstairs where Sherlock was sitting in his armchair, knees drawn to his chest as he looked off in the distance, obviously wrapped up in his own mind. John simply shrugged and went into the kitchen. He stopped short as he saw a few mugs with miscellaneous small body parts placed in them. He screwed up his face in disgust and decided he wasn't very thirsty-or hungry for that matter- anymore.

John turned around and made his way back over to the den where he settled down; pulling up his brand new laptop that he got just the other day. He cruised the net, waiting for Sherlock to get out of his funk. The man warned him once before that this could go on for days; he hoped it was a short one.

–

A few hours had passed when John decided he was, in fact, hungry enough to brave the body parts. He contemplated going downstairs to Mrs. Hudson and maybe dine with her but thought better of it. He ignored the used mugs, pulling down a clean one from the cupboard, washed it again just in case with plenty of soap, and put the kettle on.

He pursed his lips and decided to brave the fridge this time.

"Well, at least it wasn't a head." John murmured as he reached over the dismembered arms to grab the strawberry jam and the loaf of bread. He popped two pieces into the toaster and leaned against the counter, away from the body parts in the mugs, and stared at the unmoving, silent man.

He studied him. The unruly locks of hair, curled up in all directions, a grey t-shirt hanging loosely off the thin frame, loose pajama pants stretched over the lean, thin legs, giving way to long bare feet.

John's eyes raised back to the mans face and studied the aquiline features, the glassy sea-green eyes that stared off blankly. The blue, silk dressing gown made his eyes nearly glow.

The blonde man nearly jumped when the eyes suddenly shifted to him, loosing their glass-like appearance and began glittering.

"What do you see?" He queried, his voice deep and husky from disuse.

John's face flushed as he quickly looked away, not wanting to say anything. He looked out his peripheral vision at the taller man to see him looking at him with a mischievous grin, his eyes twinkling with mirth. He knew the other had easily seen through him.

Sherlock went to say something when the toast popped and he hurried back over to it, quickly making his food. He was happy for the distraction. He quickly slathered a thin layer of jam on his toast and filled the mug with water, letting the tea steep. He kept his back to Sherlock as he all but jammed the toast into his mouth.

The taller man studied him, he could feel the analytical eyes roaming over his back. He tried to fight down the flush that colored his cheeks but to no avail. He ate his toast quickly, prepared his tea and made his way to the table. He sat down and reached once more for his laptop when the deep baritone voice of his companion broke the silence.

"What is your actual age?"

John gulped, taking a scalding sip of his tea before he murmured, "I'm twenty-five."

He could hear the other making a hum of acknowledgment before the other replied, "So, you're three years my senior. I see. You look much younger."

"Wait, you're only twenty-two and doing this type of work?" John exclaimed, twisting his body around to stare at the other man. "I swore you were at least my age!"

"I'm what others call a genius, and I must agree with that, indeed." The other stated with a smirk, crossing his legs.

"Brilliant." John murmured, going back to facing the table and reaching once more for his laptop. He jumped when a long, cold hand rested itself against his wrist in a silent demand that he not go onto it.

The other sat down opposite him, one elbow pressing against the laptop as he asked, "Why did you work for Moriarty? You don't seem the type to kill people needlessly. You seem to be more loyal, noble. So, why?"

John was taken aback. The other didn't seem to be someone who would care about such trivial things, but he felt compelled to answer honestly. What was the point of lies anymore, anyways? The man knew who he was and what he did. For his sister.

He took a deep breath before staring into the others pale eyes, noting the glitter that seemed to be permanently sparkling in those intelligent eyes.

"Because of my sister." He began, taking in a shaky breath, "She had gathered a huge debt due to her drug habit. I had came in just as Sebastian gave her the option of prostitution or death. I then offered my services in her stead. Not as a prostitute, mind you, but as an assassin. Sebastian knew me, he was the colonel in another squadron, but had seen me many times. I actually have already paid for her debt, but by that point I had nowhere to go. My sister took off, as well. I have no idea where she went, but for the most part she should be safe from harm, if she already hasn't passed on."

Sherlock nodded, studying the others face before he got up. John looked after the retreating back as the man returned to his armchair and slid out a manila envelope from under the cushion.

"I don't need this, then. You're being honest." Sherlock stated, pulling a lighter out from the pocket of his dressing gown and lighting the folder on fire.

John's jaw dropped as he exclaimed, "You had a folder on me?"

He was truly flabbergasted as he watched what was obviously a thick file on himself burn up.

"Mycroft brought it over - which is a rare thing for him, just so you know. He normally sends his dogs to do what he wants- stating it was of the most importance I knew whom I picked up to live with me. I only read the key points I queried to check your loyalty and honesty."

John wanted to argue, he wanted to accuse the man for snooping into his life, but he understood why. He was a murderer, an assassin. He lied to get into this flat. If he were Sherlock he wouldn't have allowed himself to stay here.

The blonde deflated quickly, sighing, "I have no further reason to lie to you. It was only to do my job to begin with."

The brunette nodded, staring stonily at him before making his way back over to the table and pushing the laptop back in the blondes direction. "You can do what you want now. I just wanted to make sure you were going to be honest from now on."

–

It was night and the weather report had been right. The night had cleared up and it was now cool outside, though a bit damp. He opened the window in his bedroom and sat on his bed, fiddling with his phone. Sherlock had gone out an hour prior, something to do with the case he was working on. He no longer felt like his life was about to end. They went out yesterday with no fault or attempt on his life.

He wondered if Moriarty had given up on him. He was about to chuckle at the thought when he heard the sound of something penetrating the window. He didn't even have time to turn around.

–

Across the street in the abandoned building, Sebastian smiled as he watched his target crumple to the ground. He was a bit worried the sudden wind gust was going to carry the bullet off target, but since the boy no longer seemed to be moving, it seemed to be an accurate hit.

He went to take apart his rifle when a strong, sinewy arm wrapped itself around his neck, holding him in a choke-hold. He began to try and elbow the person behind him but the other straightened themselves, bringing him off his feet. He kicked, trying to hit the others kneecaps, but the other didn't seem to react to the pain. Without warning he felt the hold slacken, and as he was about to take advantage of it, he felt two fingers on his neck and the world went black.

–

Sherlock huffed, tossing the limp body of Sebastian Moran to the dusty ground. He looked out, worried that perhaps John had, in fact, been shot, but saw the slight movement the other made as he checked to see if another bullet would come.

He didn't inform the blonde of his suspicions of the attempt on his life, hoping to stop it before the other even pulled the trigger. He was thankful for the sudden wind taking the bullet off course for a fraction of a second, and trusted John's army training and common sense of playing dead before he ended up with a second bullet in the head.

He left the rifle in place and lifted Sebastian, tossing him over his shoulder as he stealthily made his way into the street and all but dashed across and through the door and up the stairs. He hoped no one saw that he had an unconscious man slung over his shoulder.

He tossed Sebastian onto the couch before he pulled out some strong, braided rope. He pulled out one of the unused dining chairs and slumped the unconscious assassin on it, before tying him to the chair.

He tugged at the restraints. If his above average strength couldn't break them, Sebastian couldn't. He nodded and made his way up to John's room.

Sherlock opened the door to see the blonde shirtless with some cotton balls and alcohol. His shoulder had a deep welt across it. The smaller man looked up, startled, at the brunette. Sherlock raised a hand as the other went to speak.

"You don't have to explain. Sebastian is tied up downstairs. I'm sorry I couldn't get him before he shot. I'm just glad it's a graze, for if he had killed you he wouldn't be alive."

John looked at Sherlock owlishly, "Sebastian is downstairs? Why the hell is he in the house, he's dangerous!"

Sherlock waved a hand in dismissal, "I'm going to use him as a bargaining chip. Your life for his. Moriarty should accept if what you say about them is true."

John looked at the tall man and whispered, "That's horrible. It will work, but to use his lover against him.."

"He would do it to me if this was the other way around. Feel no pity over this. I'll leave first thing in the morning with him. I knocked him out and when I go back down I'll feed him my own, personal tranquilizer that I made myself. It should keep him nice and complacent until tomorrow's errand is finished." Sherlock grinned at John before leaving the room with a soft click.

John shook his head at the others antics and went back to tending the graze on his arm.

* * *

**The whole entire chapter was written by Winterimperfect (Doing fantastic job as always)**

**Hope you enjoy!**

**remember reviews are welcome!**


	12. Chapter 12

John woke up late in the morning, knowing he was alone in the flat made him feel rather lonely. Sherlock had taken off in the early morning light with Sebastian tossed over his shoulder to go negotiate for his life. With a deep sigh, he made his way to the kitchen. He had a dream where Sherlock hated him and it made him crave some form of romantic reciprocation from the stoic, machine-like genius that was Sherlock Holmes.

As he was eating breakfast, someone came up the stairs. He looked over towards the door and was surprised to see it was Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock's landlady.

"Oh, hello dear." She said surprised, "I thought you'd be out with Sherlock."

"No." John said, depressed.

"What is bothering you dear?" She asked.

"Just tired of waiting for Sherlock to return these feelings." John confessed.

"Don't worry, dear. I may be old but I'm not stupid. He just doesn't understand _what_ he's feeling." She said as someone came into the flat. "The nice Detective inspector is here, I will let you two be." She patted John on the knee. Lestrade watched Mrs. Hudson disappear downstairs.

"Did I interrupt something?"

"No… I'm just frustrated."

"We can talk if you like." Lestrade replied.

"You're not going to tell me that it will all be fine, are you?"

"No, that'd be a lie."

"Good, I am just tired of waiting to find out if Sherlock will feel the same way as I."

"This is Sherlock we're talking about, he doesn't understand sentiment or love… Some days it can seem like he has no feelings at all!" Lestrade paused, "But he does… He took offense when you called him a freak. I've never seen him do that."

"So, are you saying there is a chance?"

"Just because he doesn't understand it doesn't mean he is incapable of love, it just takes time and after all your lies it may take longer."

"I can't blame him, but after this is over I will probably be thrown in jail."

"Maybe not, you would be surprised what Sherlock can pull off."

"How do you know all this?"

"I am dating his brother."

"Wait you're with… oh…"

"Right now he is bargaining for your life, I really hope you didn't lie to him about that."

"I didn't. It's just... Moriarty keeps it a secret so no one can hurt them… They won't stop until I am dead."

"Sherlock won't let that happen and if it did, he'd kill the man who did it."

"How can you be so sure?"

"He cares. He really does care… It's right in front of you, he just shows it differently… If you look you will see it." Lestrade stated, patting John on the thigh.

"Yeah, I don't know what I am looking for." John stated.

"Understand him… Learn who he is and then you will see it."

"How can you understand a man who is consider a _freak _but is really just misunderstood? He's different from any other person I have ever known."

"Just look… I see it, but I have heard love can blind from someone." Lestrade said, walking away, "I will see you later."

John sat surprised and thinking about what Lestrade said, he finished eating his breakfast before getting dressed. He was thinking about his sister, wondering what had happened to her; he hadn't kept in contact for her safety hoping she'd get clean. She probably didn't care to talk to him over guilt; the day he left she was out of her mind believing it was her fault. He was the one that offered to be an assassin, he didn't like the work but after the debt was paid where would he go? He had no money, no real job, and only knew how to kill.

Now he was under protection of a consulting detective willing to bargain for John's life, risking everything to save him. Sherlock had even bought him everything he needed and more. No one had done that for him. It suddenly dawned on him. Sherlock was not the type of man to do that, he will save people from death or even kidnapping but he wouldn't help them get stuff they needed. Sherlock even seemed worried after John got shot. The blond just smiled. Lestrade had been right, the signs were there.

* * *

**I wrote this chapter myself, just some help with Mrs. Hudson part.**


	13. Chapter 13

Moriarty paced the length of his flat, his heart hammering in his chest.

He had been captured. His Sebastian.

He felt his blood boil in anger over Sherlock capturing his lover as well as the feeling of being bathed in ice over the fact something bad might have happened to him.

He had been overjoyed when he had received a text from Sebastian last night, assuming the hit was a success, but he soon learned the horror when reading;

**I have Sebastian.**

**I want to negotiate.**

**SH**

Moriarty almost threw his phone, but instead calmly replied with a meeting place. Negotiations mean Sebastian was alive. He knew what it was going to be.

No one said he'd have to keep up his end of the bargain.

When it was almost five in the morning he left his flat and made his way to an abandoned warehouse. Cliché, yes, but practical when wanting to not be caught.

He waited impatiently, pacing and hearing only his own shuffled footsteps echoing back at him. He stopped abruptly and turned when a new sound accompanied his frenzied steps.

The silhouette of the consulting detective filled the doorway.

Moriarty crossed his arms, staring harshly at the man. "I've been waiting."

Sherlock simply tossed the limp body of Sebastian into the room and stepped forward into the light, his fierce eyes glittering as he glared at Moriarty.

"You know the deal. Sebastian's life for John's. You take your lover and never attack John again." Sherlock stated, his voice low and threatening as he stared at the smaller man.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. We'll leave John alone, blah blah blah, you bang him, I bang Sebastian, everything's peachy." Moriarty mumbled, crouching down and touching the pale forehead of his lover.

"What did you do to him?" He asked, glaring up at the tall man.

"Morphine. My own special tranquilizer. I think he rather enjoyed it." Sherlock replied with a smirk, "It should wear off in a few hours. I have your word that you'll leave John alone? If you don't, you now know how easy it is for me to get to Sebastian."

Moriarty waved a hand, "My word. There you go. Now, if you'll excuse me."

The small man hefted Sebastian over his shoulder, stumbled slightly at the height and weight difference, before staggering out the door.

Sherlock sniffed. He knew Moriarty would more than likely try again, he was a snake after all and he only wanted Sebastian back. Sincerity was not in that mans vocabulary. He would leave them alone for a short while, at least, before attempting it again.

He sighed and left the warehouse.

–

Around ten in the morning, Moriarty heard a groan come from the hall way. He looked up to see the tall red-head stumbling down the hall before leaning heavily against the couch.

"What happened? I got caught, didn't I." Sebastian slurred, his head in his hands as the world spun around him.

"He was smarter than you thought. I warned you." Moriarty stated, moving his legs so Sebastian could sag onto the couch, groaning.

The small man tossed a package of painkillers at the assassin and handed him his glass of water.

"Should help." He stated before going back to watching the telly.

Sebastian swallowed the pills and leaned back heavily, surprised when he felt a hand tug his shoulder and he was forcefully pulled into the smaller mans arms. Moriarty shifted so that his legs and arms were on either side, creating a small cage of warmth for the tall man. He took the gesture for what it was and cuddled into the small mans chest, falling asleep once more.

–

This time when he awoke, Moriarty had fallen into a slumber himself. It was evening; he could tell from the light in the room, and the news was playing. He shifted and sat up, his headache gone though his body still ached. The movement woke his smaller lover, whom sat up and rubbed his eyes sleepily.

"Feeling better, Seb?" He murmured, straightening up and shaking his limbs which had fallen asleep in the awkward position.

The ginger nodded, watching the pointless news that played before looking back at Moriarty.

"Jim." He began, getting the others attention to focus solely on him, "You negotiated my life for John's, didn't you. You know I would've somehow escaped so why did you bother?"

Moriarty sniffed, "I wanted you back immediately. Also, I never said I'd keep up my end of the bargain. I just won't be using you."

Sebastian looked at the smirking criminal whom raised his phone, "While you were out I messaged Corbin. He'll be taking over John's assassination."

"Oh. He'll never know what's coming with that rat." The red-head murmured, nodding at the others choice. He was a bit saddened to have been taken off the case, but he understood his lovers wish to remove him from an assassination contract if it meant saving his life.

–

"It's been nearly six hours." John muttered under his breath as he paced the length of the den, his thumb between his lips as he chewed on the nail nervously. Was he alright? Did Moriarty murder him in a rage over the other capturing his beloved?

His heart became still and he felt relief wash over him as he heard the door open downstairs and the footfalls he recognized as Sherlocks heading up the stairs. The minute the brunette crossed the threshold, John whispered, "You're alright."

Sherlock cocked his head at him in confusion over such worry, "What is it? Were you that worried? I had Sebastian, he wouldn't have done anything."

"But you don't know that!" John cried out, his hands clenching at his side, "He could've shot you the minute you didn't have Sebastian near you."

Sherlock shook his head in disagreement, but felt a small thrill over having been worried over. He made up his mind and strode briskly over to John, his hands clasping the smaller mans face between his hands and he kissed him. It was his first time ever kissing someone. Sure, he had been kissed by others a few times before, but he had never kissed someone himself. He quickly pulled back with a hiss for he had went a little too hard, clacking their teeth together rather painfully.

John rubbed a hand over his mouth to make the ache go away before he smiled and looked up at the taller man who had a light flush on his cheeks as he looked away.

"You do it like this." John whispered, putting a hand to Sherlock's cheek before gently bringing the others face closer to his. He moved in carefully and lightly placed his lips over the other mans. Sherlock took a sharp intake of air through his nose before he awkwardly wrapped his arms around the smaller man to make the kiss more intimate.

John let out a tiny moan as he shuffled a bit closer to the tall man, needing to feel the length of his body against his own. He felt a little happy to be teaching Sherlock how to kiss. He moved his lips against the others full lips, waiting for the Sherlock to mimic him before continuing on.

"Now," John said breathlessly as he pulled away, "Would you like to try that again?" The blonde tilted his head, raising his eyebrows in question with a small smile playing on his lips as he looked up at the brunette. What he saw made his heart skip a beat and his breath escaped him.

Sherlock was simply amazing when he was aroused. His pale cheeks had a hint of color, his usual sharp eyes nearly black from the dilation of his pupils, his body moved in a strangely sexual manner when he panted with want. He nodded, looking to the side as he let out a nervous breath before he entered John's personal space once more, placing a hand on the others cheek before lowering his head, carefully, gently, taking the others lips with his own.

John gasped in shock as the other nibbled lightly on his lower lip before lapping lightly at it. It was a touch clumsy, but he knew what the other wanted. He opened his mouth, one hand sliding up the length of the brunette's body before tangling into the curly hair, pulling his head as close as possible as he felt the others tongue enter his own mouth. He felt Sherlock place both hands on his hips and he was being lead backwards, letting out a little groan of discomfort when his back hit the wall.

Sherlock braced one hand on the wall while the other moved to John's throat, tilting his head up and to the side so the brunette had the easiest access to his mouth. Before long, Sherlock moved away from his mouth and made his way down to the others neck where he bit down fiercely. John cried out in shock and tried to push the taller man away but soon let out a whimper when the biting stopped and the brunette lapped lightly at the sore flesh, suckling gently before moving.

Sherlock looked at him and smirked, "Now everyone knows you're mine."

"You didn't." John said breathlessly, a hand going to his neck. Sherlock gave him a mischievous smile before he went to his room, closing the door behind him with a click.

The blonde hurried to the bathroom and tilted his head to see a huge mark blossoming on his neck. John groaned, "He doesn't do relationships or romance, but the minute he 'needs' a person he claims them? Give me a break."

Sherlock was a possessive lover.

* * *

**Winterimperfect wrote the chapter! hope you enjoy!**


	14. Chapter 14

John awoke the next morning, his head abuzz with the memory of the previous night. The sensuality. The Romance. He lifted a hand and pressed it to his neck. He hoped it wasn't excruciatingly visible. He got up and made his way down the stairs, spotting Sherlock in his pajamas and dressing gown, curled up on his armchair.

He made his way over and gave him a light kiss on the forehead, "Morning."

The other grumbled, displeased. He was in a irritable mood it seemed, so John made his way to the bathroom and prepared for a nice, soothing shower. He shed his clothes and glanced at his reflection, groaning as he saw the large bruise blossoming on the side of his neck. It was even bigger than last night. He would have to wear a turtle neck today.

He entered the shower, the warm spray hitting his body in a delicious torrent, his body sagging in relief from the onslaught. He sighed, going over the night before in his head. He tilted his head back and ran his fingers through his short cropped hair, before his thoughts traveled to the night before. He felt himself hardening at a fast rate and decided to relieve himself.

He imagined Sherlock in the shower with him, pressing up against him. He ran his hand lightly down his torso, rubbing slightly at his lower abdomen as he imagined the tall brunette's hand traveling lower and lower, teasing him as it almost reached his aching need. He bit his lip to stop a groan as his hand encircled his dick; though in his mind it was a long, pale hand pumping his cock at an impressive speed. He imagined the tall man dropping to his knees and taking him into his mouth, and that was all his body could take. He slapped a hand over his mouth to cut back the long, satisfied moan as he came into his hand. He hurriedly washed the semen off his hand before picking up a wash cloth and lathering it up with some soap, quickly washing his body.

He coughed slightly as he turned off the water and left the tub, drying himself off before pulling his clothes on. He glanced at the mirror guiltily. He hoped it wasn't obvious what he had done and with whom in mind.

"Sherlock? Would it bother you if I went to the store? I feel like buying myself a good book to read." John murmured to the grumpy man on the armchair.

"Go ahead. Just... Look. See everything. Don't get hurt." Sherlock muttered in reply, curling into a tighter ball.

John nodded and left, making his way down the street and towards the small bookstore a few streets away. He entered and browsed the book selection for almost an hour before making his purchase and heading back out.

He stopped by a cafe on the way back to Baker Street, buying himself an earl grey tea. He was happily drinking it walking down the street that he wasn't paying attention as he rounded a corner and ran right into a slightly taller person. His tea spilled everywhere, he dropped his books and he had fallen on his arse.

"I am _so_ sorry." Came the lilting voice. John looked up to see a thin, wisp-like teen in a plaid shirt and baggy jeans. He had shaggy brown hair and innocent grey-blue eyes. He offered John his hand and he took it, getting up and brushing himself off. The other handed him his book and murmured, "I'm sorry, I should've paid attention to where I was going. I made you loose your tea. Let me buy you a new one."

"It's not necessary, I'm just as much at fault as you..." John trailed off, holding his hand out for a hand shake. "Oh, I'm Kevin! Nice to meet you and I insist on buying you tea." The boy said, shaking his hand firmly.

"Well, if you insist.." John said, smiling, "I'm John by the way."

He followed Kevin back to the cafe he had just bought his tea from, chatting along the way. They seemed to have much in common.

They settled down at a small table by the window to continue chatting as John drank his tea.

"So, what do you do for a living?" Kevin asked, his head tilted to the side as he sipped his coffee.

"Nothing at the moment." John replied.

Kevin nodded, sipping his coffee and looking out the window, "I just lost my job so I'm in the same boat as you."

"Yeah, my friend has been helping me out." John sipped his tea, "What did you do for a living?"

"I was a cook at a fast food restaurant. Nothing really luxurious, but it paid the bills." The boy shrugged, looking out the window again. "Do you know that person?" He asked suddenly, pointing across the street to where a tall, bald man stood, glaring in their direction.

John looked the way the boy was pointing, "No." The blonde took a deep breath, "I am going to head home, you want to walk with me?"

"Sure." Kevin replied, a smile playing on his lips as he picked up his coffee cup and pushed his chair in before holding a hand out for John to lead the way.

John started to lead the way back, "Have you had any luck looking for work?" He asked as he kept checking behind him.

"Nope, no one apparently likes the way I look. I can't afford a haircut; I don't even know anyone to cut my hair to make me look more 'decent' or whatever the hell they want." The teen sniffed.

"I haven't had a job in three years, so I just lack experience." John said smiling.

"Oh, wow. I thought you were the same age as me!" He exclaimed, looking wide-eyed at the blonde.

"I just look young." John said as they walked up to 221b, he looked up to see Sherlock looking out the window.

"Oh? Is this where you live? What a nice spot." Kevin said with a smile, looking around the street before looking at John.

"Thanks." John said looking at Kevin, the blond was nervous.

John noticed someone across the street; it was the same man as before. He looked at Kevin, "You want to come in?"

"Would it bother you? That guy is really creepy." Kevin said, staring at the man.

"No, not at all." John said opening the door, stepping in waiting for the other to come in.

Kevin followed closely behind. He was halfway up the stairs when he heard a deep baritone voice call out, "John? Who is that with you?"

"Crap." John whispered, "A friend." He said as he walked into the living room.

"A friend, now?" Sherlock asked, an eyebrow cocked stating his disbelief in such a statement. Kevin looked between them, "Um, I'm not intruding am I? I, uh.. didn't know you lived with your boyfriend."

"No, he is not my boyfriend! He is just a friend." John told Kevin.

Sherlock glanced sharply at John, his eyes narrowing. Kevin noticed the exchange, "I think.. I think I'll just go. I rather deal with the scary looking man then this fierce looking bloke. Thanks for talking to me, John. I hope we can meet again."

He left quickly.

John glared at Sherlock, extremely annoyed with the man. Sherlock stood up and got into John's personal space, "Not only do you bring someone sketchy into the flat; I'm suddenly just a friend? Fine." He hissed, walking past John, down the steps and out the door.

John suddenly felt guilty over calling Sherlock just a friend, but in all honesty he didn't know what they were anymore. He wanted to go after Sherlock but knew he'd never catch him so he just waited for him to get back.

* * *

**Winterimperfect wrote most of the chapter I just wrote John part.**


	15. Chapter 15

Sherlock made his way back towards Baker Street. He had calmed himself down by whipping and stabbing corpses at the morgue. He opened the door and went up the stairs, shedding his coat, suit jacket and shoes in the entry. He rolled his shirt sleeves up and went to his desk, pulling out a couple of nicotine patches to replace the old ones on his arms.

After slapping them on, he sank into his armchair with relief. He stayed still for a short moment before deciding to grab his laptop, which was in his room. He got up gracefully and made his way into his room, opening the door with a flourish, but stopping short when he saw the small blonde curled up on his bed, wrapped in the white sheets and sounds asleep.

He made his way over, his brows furrowed in confusion as he placed a hand on the small mans shoulder, "John?"

John groan as he opened his eyes and saw the tall brunette in front of him; he realized Sherlock was touching his shoulder. He didn't know when he fell asleep but he was glad to see Sherlock but not sure the other was happy to see him, John really felt guilty about what he said before.

_"No, he is not my boyfriend! He is just a friend."_

John laid on his back trying to think of the words to say to Sherlock, he didn't want him to run off again. He wanted so desperately to take back those words, "I'm sorry."

John waited for a response; he was sure the other leave the room.

Sherlock let out a sigh before sitting on the bed, eying John warily. He stayed silent as he removed his socks and began changing into his Pajamas.

John turned away as Sherlock changed, he had already seen him naked once but still felt embarrassed.

After changing, Sherlock pushed John's shoulder, requesting he'd roll to the far side of the bed so that he could crawl in. John moved over- confused slightly- as he looked at Sherlock. The brunette lay down and pulled the covers over himself, keeping his back towards John. He felt his earlier anger bubbling to the surface but fought it back down.

"Are you still mad?" John asked breaking the silence.

"No." He muttered, tugging the sheet higher to cover part of his face as he curled up into a fetal position

"Yeah, sure." John grumbled sarcastically as he sat up and put his arms around his knees. Sherlock stayed silent; his eyes closed as he listened to the minute movements the blonde made. John got out of bed and was about to leave but he stopped. He leaned against the wall unable to think clearly the words still haunting him.

"Where are you going? Since you were in my bed I assumed you wanted to share it."

John looked in Sherlock direction, "You want me in here?"

"Well, I should've realized you wouldn't want to share a bed with me since I am just a friend." The brunette grumbled, rolling over and obviously sulking.

"Look, I am sorry! I wasn't thinking!" John all but yelled. Sherlock stayed quiet, his body still as he glowered at the opposite wall. "You're more than friend; I just don't know what we are at this point." John said as he rubbed the bite mark on his neck.

Sherlock bit back a curse; he quickly got up and stalked up to John, cornering him. "I thought it was obvious the minute I kissed you. I apologize if my intellect is too grand for expecting you to understand what it meant."

"W…what..." John could barely get the words out as he looked into Sherlock's glasz eyes.

The brunette yanked opened the door, "Go to your own room if you don't get it."

Instead of leaving, John pulled Sherlock in for a kiss. He didn't understand, but he wanted to. He moved his lips away, keeping his hold on the detective.

Sherlock pushed John away, glaring at him, "Don't play with me, John. I need you. If you don't need me then don't tease."

"I do need you; I just don't understand you yet."

"Then leave me alone." Sherlock muttered, heading back to his bed. John ran off without saying anything. He slammed his bedroom door shut, pressing against it. He was still unsure what to think but he wanted to be with Sherlock more than anything. He was probably angrier with himself for causing this mess than he was with Sherlock.

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**Winterimperfect wrote Sherlock part.**


	16. Chapter 16

John woke with a start. After a deep inhale and a groan, he slowly pushed himself up until he was in a sitting position on the bed. He took a deep breath and placed a hand to his forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache.

The memory of the night before hit him suddenly and he balled his hands into fists in his ignited anger. He quickly got up and dressed, making his way downstairs. He was glad to see the den and kitchen deserted, which meant Sherlock was still in his room. He saw that it was mid morning and decided to just leave for the morning, not wanting to deal with the asshole he lived with.

He made his way down the stairs and was deeply surprised to ram into a waiting body just outside the door to the flat. John looked wildly at the person whom was standing on their doorstep, back towards the door. It was Kevin.

That was just a touch creepy, John thought.

"Oh, geez, I thought I'd be waiting longer. Look, I know this is pretty damn creepy but I wanted to apologize for yesterday. Seems I stepped on a few toes." Kevin said quickly, rushing his words until they were nearly slurred together.

"It's alright. The argument would've come up sooner or later." John sighed before looking up and seeing a familiar shadow in the upstairs windows, "I was going to get some tea, would you like to come? I really don't feel like being home right now."

Kevin nodded, shyly tucking some hair behind his ear as he smiled at the blonde. "That would be nice."

They made their way down the street, chatting amiably about nothing and everything. They had much in common, at least in hobbies and tastes, obviously not in the work field.

They entered the little cafe and John ordered an Earl grey tea, but when he went to reach for his wallet he groaned. He forgot his wallet. He went to cancel his order when Kevin held up a hand, "I got it."

John wanted to object, but in the end he allowed the brunette to pay for his tea. They sat in the same seats as yesterday and continued to talk.

"I'm sorry you had to pay for my tea, I can't believe I didn't double check I had my wallet." John moaned, his head resting in his hand.

"Don't let it bother you, my treat. After all it seems I caused quite a storm between you and your lover." Kevin murmured, blowing onto his tea.

"He is just really protective of me." John murmured.

"So he **is** your lover then." Kevin replies, a strange look passing over his face a split second before he smiles up at John, "Protective isn't always a good thing."

"Yeah, of some sort...The man is a mystery to me still." John muttered before looking up, "I don't think it's the bad kind of protective."

Kevin shrugged and looked out the window blandly, studying the streets and people passing by without a care. He looked back at John, "Do you love him?"

John sipped his tea, "Yeah."

The brunette nodded and became eerily quiet, staring blankly out the window.

Minutes had passed before the other finally moved. He pointed out the window, "Isn't that the guy from yesterday?"

John looked over and glanced out the window to see the tall bald man sitting on a bench a little ways down the street but obviously staring in the direction of the cafe. The blonde swallowed, "Yes. It is."

He quickly stood up, tea in hand.

"Let's continue, I don't feel really comfortable knowing this guy is watching us. Who **is** he and what does he want?" John muttered, pushing his chair in as Kevin got up and joined him.

"Did you want to confront him?" The brunette asked, his head tilted in question. His hair had fallen into his eyes, hiding the nearly glowing orbs from his view.

"No. It seems a touch dangerous." John murmured, excluding the main issue of 'I don't want regular people to get hurt because of something I did.'

Kevin shrugged and followed the blonde out of the cafe and down the street, heading in the opposite direction as the man whom seemed to have him under surveillance.

They made their way through the streets, just walking and talking amiably. John was laughing at something Kevin said when suddenly he felt himself being pushed. The world blurred, he was weightless.

When he hit the cold hard ground he was met with the sounds of screeching tires, blaring horns, and horrified gasps. He laid there motionless, hearing the roar of an engine near him. He was suddenly covered in hands.

"Are you okay? John?"

It was Kevin.

"Yeah.. fine.. Just get me off the street." John murmured, the world still a blur. His eye was stinging so he kept it closed as the brunette helped him up and took him to the curb.

When he looked up as he stepped up onto the sidewalk he saw the bald man glaring dangerously at him before turning on his heel and stalking away.

John shook slightly as he lowered himself down to sit on the sidewalk, placing a hand to his forehead. That man tried to kill him.

He looked at his hand and saw it covered in blood, he wiped it nonchalantly on his pant leg and sighed. Moriarty hadn't given up in the end.

"You okay? Here's a tissue." Kevin suddenly said, shoving a wad of tissues at him. He caught John off guard who jumped a bit before smiling up at the brunette and thanking him.

The other hovered around him as he wiped the blood up from his forehead. When he began to hear the sounds of sirens, he quickly stood up and looked at the brunette, "Let's go. I'm fine and don't feel like dealing with them."

Kevin simply shrugged and tagged after the blonde, whom left the scene as quickly as possible.

John's mind was going a mile a minute over whom the tall bald man was. He didn't recognize him from Moriarty's ranks, but he didn't know each and every underling intimately either. He probably purposefully went with someone he wouldn't recognize, though someone that bad at camouflage must really be a low rank.

"I should go home." He stated suddenly, startling Kevin whom wasn't expecting the other to speak.

"Want me to walk you home?" The brunette asked kindly, a soft smile playing on his mouth.

"No, I rather go by myself, thanks." John said, smiling back at the teen.

Another of those strange looks passed the boys face before the smile was back and he held up his phone, "Can I get your number? I really like talking to you and I consider us friends. I'd like to hang out again soon."

John didn't see the harm in it and gave it over. A smile and a wave and he was back on his way to Baker Street.

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**Winterimperfect wrote most the chapter I only wrote some of John part. **


	17. Chapter 17

John quietly ascended the steps before entering the flat. He saw Sherlock hunched over their table with beakers, test tubes and many other chemistry-related items strewn about. He eyed the body part laying exposed on the table and Sherlock was reaching for a small plastic bottle that had HF(aq) written on it, before he looked up sharply and snapped, "Go away, busy yourself elsewhere. I'm busy."

John bit back an insult before he stumbled over to the bathroom, grasping for purchase on the sink as his head swam. He took in his reflection and held back a pained gasp as he saw the bruises blossoming across the side of his face and neck as well as the large gash on his forehead.

He pulled his shirt off and fell against the wall as his equilibrium left him. He let the shirt fall before righting himself and once more leaning heavily on the sink. He studied his reflection to see his shoulder and side both were bruised heavily and scraped up.

A sigh passed his lips and he decided to draw himself a bath, it would be less dangerous for him to bathe than to shower. He slowly made his way over to the small tub and began filling it with water. He sighed as he pushed his trousers and pants down, almost yelping as he sat on the cold porcelain while waiting for the water level to rise to the proper amount required for a bath.

He studied his hip and legs while waiting to see how bad it was. His hip was definitely bruised and scraped as well as his thigh. His calf was practically untouched. He was going to seriously ache come morning. He twisted the knobs and ceased the water before stepping in and slowly lowering himself into the warm water. He bit back many hisses and groans as the water caused his scrapes and tender flesh to burn.

He settled in and made himself comfortable, trying to get as much water onto his wounds as possible. After a few relaxing minutes, he reached for a wash cloth and dampened it in the bathwater. He soon tended to the wounds too high for the water to reach, biting back a groan as the harsh material painfully glided over the torn flesh. He almost screamed when he dabbed at the cut on his forehead. He knew a wash cloth was far from the most hygienic or sterile thing to use on cuts, but for now, it was fine. He would disinfect them after the bath.

He finished cleaning up and pulled the plug, standing up on shaky legs as the shock of what happened settled in. He carefully got out and quickly sat on the lid of the toilet, not wanting to fall down and worsen his condition. He quickly pulled out the alcohol and peroxide along with some sterile cotton swabs and began to slowly and meticulously tend to the scrapes. He had to stand up and look in the mirror to tend to his face and he had to bite down on his fist as he disinfected the gash on his forehead. Once that was done he rubbed some salve into the bruises and pulled out a small package of butterfly bandage and got to work on pinching the gash closed with it.

When he was done he cleaned up and got dressed, quietly making his way to his room lest he distract the irritable Sherlock Holmes. He shed his clothes once more and slipped into a loose pair of pajama pants and an oversized T-shirt before he curled up on his bed, mindful of the injuries, and slowly fell asleep.

–

When he awoke hours later, it felt like hell had been unleashed on his tender body.

He groaned in absolutely agony and reached for his phone. He looked at the time to see it was already eight in the morning. He got up slowly, his body screaming in protest as he straightened up and stumbled to his dresser to pull out some loose, easy clothes for his battered body. A pair of track pants and an oversized T-shirt was his ensemble of the day and instead of going for his usual shoes he slid on a pair of runners. He had a feeling he would be banished from the flat once more if Sherlock was still in his sour mood.

He slowly made his way down the stairs, biting back whimpers of discomfort. He was about to head into the kitchen, completely ignoring Sherlock, when the other made a noise at the back of his throat. Thinking it had to do with the brunette finally noticing his predicament, but was disappointed when the other simply moved to scribble something down on a paper nearby.

He quickly made himself some toast and stayed far from the table, scarfing it down by the counter. John let out a sigh as he forced his body to move towards Sherlock and he went to grab his wallet at the far corner of the table when his wrist was quickly grabbed in an insanely strong grip by one long white hand.

"Unless you want your skin to have holes or burns in it, I suggest staying as far away from here as possible. Here's your wallet, now leave me alone. I have important experiments to conduct and no time to babysit."

"No problem." John ground out, yanking his arm out of the others steely grip before snatching his wallet and storming out of the flat.

He let out an anguished sigh before he quickly took off down the street in what was quickly becoming a routine. He stops by the same cafe as the other day and ordered an earl grey tea, settling into the seat and staring blankly out the window as he sipped at his tea.

He didn't know how long he had been staring off into space, but soon he noticed he was being watched. His eyes scanned the street and soon came to rest on that tall man again. His body jerked in reaction as their eyes met and he grabbed what was left of his tea and fled the cafe, ignoring the absolute agony his body was in as he hurriedly made his way down a side street in hopes of escaping, but every time he looked over his shoulder the man was still there, making his way after him.

He pulled his phone out and quickly jabbed at Kevin's number, hoping to hell he'd pick up. A groggy voice soon answered, a bite to the voice that John simply attributed to being woken.

"Kevin? It's John. Um.. How long would it take you to get to Regent's Park? I'm being followed and could seriously use some company." John stated as he made his way into the park. He couldn't even enjoy the mass beauty of the place as he hurriedly talked into his phone.

"I'll be there in ten." The voice suddenly said, worry evident in it. John hung up and maneuvered through the park, keeping an eye out for the stalker. While the other looked one way he quickly hid behind one of the large fountains and waited for the man to pass. Once he was out of site, John let out a breath and heavily sat on the ground, groaning in agony as his body reminded him just how painful the fall yesterday was.

He stayed motionless until he heard hurried steps and a whispered call of, "John? Are you over here?"

He raised a hand in the air until the footsteps approached him and Kevin was now crouched in front of him.

"You look like shit."

John chuckled, his head lolling back a bit as he relaxed in the presence of his new friend.

"I know. It was quite a fall. He's further in the park so let's go back to my flat, it's only a few streets away. If Sherlock has an issue with it he can bugger off for all I care." John stated, standing up and dusting off his ass the best to his ability. He bit back a painful whimper when he accidentally hit the bruise covering his hip, but managed to keep it down before making his way out of the park and down the side street until he was hurrying back up Baker Street and to his flat.

He let Kevin in and was glad to see the others apparent experiment had been cleaned up. Imagine explaining that one. But his relief soon fled as his eyes met the glittering fierce eyes of Sherlock whom was relaxing in his armchair. The eyes darted to Kevin whom was behind him and the acidic look was so apparent the brunette beside him stepped back from the clear warning in the tall mans eyes.

"I have a case to work on and shall be on my way. John, do watch yourself." Sherlock spat out, brushing past the two of them as he stomped down the stairs and out to the street.

"I'm sorry. I seem to be really ruining your relationship." Kevin muttered, eying the door that had just been slammed shut moments before.

"He's being his usual self. Ignore him." John sighed, sinking into the couch and pulling out the remote for the telly.

"Care for watching some telly with me? It's not something he really watches with me." John asked, patting the couch beside him. The brunette sat down next to him and smiled, "Sure! I love watching the telly."

They soon fell into a comfortable silence as they watched the crappy program, the worries about Sherlock soon leaving his mind as he drifted off to sleep.

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**Winterimperfect wrote the chapter and for those following my other stories i had a problem with my SD card and lost all my files. So the updates will most likely be late to post since now we have to rewrite the chapters i lost for updates. They will be updated as soon as possible.**


	18. Chapter 18

**The chapter was written by winterimperfect, and did a fantastic job at that. There are only two chapters to go i believe, sad but true. sorry the update over a week late but we both had a lot going on this last week and it didn't help that my SD card stopped working that had all my files on it. So i will let you read it now.**

**Enjoy!**

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John awoke alone on the couch, a blanket pulled over him and the telly was off. From the light filtering in, he figured it was late afternoon. He slowly sat up and noticed a note on the dining table. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and groggily stood up and made his way to the table. He glanced at the note to see it read,

_Hey Sleepyhead,_

_I decided it would be better to run out before your lover came back, he's scary and I do not want to take him on alone. Or at all for that matter. I hope you sleep well. If you see that scary guy again, feel free to call me, you know I'll be there for you._

_ -Kevin_

John smiled a little before sliding the note into his pocket when he heard the door open and foot steps stomp up the stairs.

"Great. He's gone."

John snorted and glared over his shoulder to the haughty look of his flatmate. Sherlock cocked a brow in his direction, "What? You know perfectly well I don't like him. I don't trust him either, he's hiding something. You shouldn't get too close."

"Why shouldn't I, Sherlock? He actually gives a damn about me. He _cares_ unlike you. He actually seems to enjoy my presence, which I can't say for you whom demands I leave all the time and considers my presence babysitting."

"He's paying too much attention to you, I don't like it."

"Because he **cares**! I know you don't understand what 'caring' is but it's pretty important to most human beings, which I suspect you are not. Not just that, he's protecting me from this guy who won't leave me alone. He follows me everywhere. I know you saw him, he waits outside the flat until I leave and then follows me. Why don't you be suspicious of him?"

"He's of no concern to me, nor should he be to you. Kevin, on the other hand, you should stay far away from. I don't like it. Don't bring him into the flat ever again."

"You have no right to be jealous. You don't even give a damn about me." John growled out, his hands clenching in anger.

Sherlock raised a brow and regarded him coldly, "You're daft. Stay away from Kevin and that's final."

John lashed out, decking Sherlock who barely budged from the impact. John held his sore fist close to his chest as he bit out, "You don't own me." Before flying out the door and out onto the street.

John shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he strode down the street, shoulders hunched as he muttered under his breath expletives towards his cold flatmate. He quickly made his way down in the direction of Oxford Street, stopping in to get himself a tea at a random cafe before continuing on.

He crossed Oxford and turned onto twenty-fifth North Row to get away from the busy crowds. He glanced behind himself to see the bald man a few feet behind him, his eyes locked onto his back, though looking quickly away when he saw John noticed him.

He quickly pulled out his phone and dialed Kevin's number. He picked up on the second ring, "John?"

"Hey Kevin. That guy is following me again. I'm on Twenty-fifth North Row and would seriously enjoy some company. I'm heading towards Hyde Park. You're probably home ri-"

The squeal of tires had John whipping his head behind him to see a car facing the wrong direction headed straight for him. He quickly looked around for a way of escape but only saw spiked fences on one end and plain buildings on the other. He legged it as fast as possible until he rounded a corner and lifted himself onto the top of one of the spiked fences. It wasn't the most comfortable thing, but as the car crashed into the corner of the fence, making him loose purchase and crash into the asphalt, before zooming off, it seemed that it saved his life.

He panted, looking around wildly for the car to return, but instead saw Kevin on the other side of the street, holding his phone in one hand with a shocked expression on the other. He ran forward and lifted John up, "I was on Oxford when you called so I hurried over just in time. I must say, you think fast. I wouldn't have jumped up there, I would've skewered myself."

John looked at the mouth of the street and saw the bald man glowering at them.

"Let's-Let's go."

Kevin nodded and helped him up before they quickly scampered off, back to Oxford street.

"Where should we go?" Kevin asked, huffing slightly as he looked at John whom was contemplating.

"I was thinking of heading to Hyde park. I just need to relax, seriously. That man..." He trailed off, his arms crossed as he glowered in the direction of Baker Street.

"You know that's roughly a half hour walk, right? It's almost nighttime, you sure that's a good idea?" Kevin looked at John, eyebrow raised.

"Why not. If anything happens, I know how to fight." The blonde replied with a shrug. Kevin looked nervous, but shrugged as well, "Then I expect you to save my arse if we get attacked."

John laughed and nodded.

The two slowly made their way towards the park entrance, chatting amiably as the night drew near and the sun began to sink low in the sky coloring the streets and trees on Park Lane a soft orange and pink.

"It's really pretty, don't you think?" John asked, looking at Kevin whom had a strange expression on his face as he studied the blonde silently. The other soon nodded in agreement, the expression melting away into one of friendliness.

By the time they made their way into the park, it was nearly dark. It wasn't quite night, the sky was still blue, but shadows stretched over the grass and walk ways as they made their way deeper into the park. There was barely any people, and John took relief in it. He hadn't seen that stalker either, which made him nearly giddy in happiness.

They made their way slowly through the park, resting near Rotten Row for a short while. John was simply staring up at the sky when he felt a hand brush his cheek. He looked over to see the strange expression on Kevin's face before the other pressed his lips to his.

John froze, panic causing his functions to shut down temporarily. He managed to murmur on the others lips, "Kevin?"

He heard a deep chuckle before the other pulled away slightly, looking up at him through his eyelashes with a grin stretching his mouth. John stared at Kevin in horror just before something sharp entered his abdomen and twisted.

"There is no Kevin, John."

John opened his mouth to say something but all he could do was gasp as the other wrenched the blade upwards.

"My name is Corbin. I'm one of Moriarty's top assassins. It's nice to meet you, Sniper-boy."


	19. Chapter 19

The blade was ripped out from his abdomen and John's knees buckled. He landed on them harshly, one hand immediately pressing against the large gash on the right side of his abdomen. He tried to disembowel him!

John shakily rose to his feet, his eyes never leaving the deranged look of his attacker. Kevin, no, Corbin giggled and unzipped a pocket on the thigh of his pants pulling out throwing knives. He licked one before staring at the bleeding man.

"Where should I cut next? Your neck? Your wrists? Your ankles? Oh, so many places. Maybe your heart?" He finished that sentence with a flick of his wrist. John's training kicked in and he jumped to the side, the blade missing him by inches as he landed in a crouch, grimacing as he jarred his already haggard wound. He kept a hand pressed to it as he quickly took off in a sprint, picking up the throwing knife and accurately returning the blade. The brunette quickly ducked so the blade flew over his head and embedded itself in a nearby tree.

Corbin threw another knife, it was obviously aimed between John's eyes, but he quickly grabbed it in mid air and ran right at Corbin, knife at the ready to stab. The brunette quickly raised the dagger he had in his left hand to block the blade from embedding itself in his neck. They struggled for dominance, but Corbin swept up his right hand which still held two throwing knives, slicing up the length of John's right upper arm.

Hissing, John stepped back, hopping backwards as Corbin started swiping both arms at him in an attempt to either unbalance him or strike him multiple times. The brunette dropped down into a crouch before moving forward fluidly with a spin. John dodged the throwing knives but couldn't move in time for the backhand with the dagger, cutting him from chest to cheek. It was a shallow cut, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

John held the knife to his wrist as he dodged another swipe. He quickly flipped it into a firm grip as he quickly struck his arm out, catching Corbin in the side and wrenching the knife upwards. The other didn't even cry out or budge, he just giggled, grabbed John's arm and thrust the dagger through his arm, breaking the bone in the process.

John screamed and let go of the dagger firmly embedded between the others ribs, holding his arm to his stomach. He was beginning to feel lightheaded, his footwork wasn't as sure as blood flowed freely from both the painful, throbbing gash and his arm. He had amazing pain endurance, but he wasn't invincible.

Corbin moved to slash at John's face and the other jumped back and stumbled, crashing to the ground painfully.

"Oh, my. I was hoping to play with you some more, John." The other cooed, looking down at him with a sad expression, one of the throwing knives pressed to his bottom lip as he studied the bloody form of John.

"I don't see why you were one of the top guys. You're so easy to kill. Snipers really shouldn't be held in such high esteem, you know?" Corbin crouched down and leaned forward, bracing one hand on the ground beside John's head and the other in his own lap as he held his head directly over the blondes.

"It's your own fault for choosing such a silly method of assassination and betraying your boss. You're so stupid, John. Did you really think Moriarty would let you go? **You**? Stupid. Boy." He growled out, punching John across the face with each word.

"It's a pity I have to kill you. _Oh_!" He paused, a look of delight crossing his face, "I wonder how your dear Sherlock Holmes will react to the news that his precious pet has been murdered by the very man he warned him against? Oh my my my."

John's brows knit in anger as Corbin went into a fit of giggles and with the last of his strength, he punched him across the face.

The other growled in outrage, his face contorted into this horrendous snarl. John bit back a cry as the tip of the dagger was painfully jabbed into his chest.

"Good night, Johnny-boy." Corbin hissed out, raising his arm high above his head.

John tried to get up, move, anything, but he had no strength left, he could barely focus as it is. He let out a woeful sigh and closed his eyes, ready for the end to come.

A gunshot rang out and he heard a sickening thump. He quickly opened his eyes and looked in the direction it came from. His head swam and nausea bubbled in his stomach as the world spun, but he was eventually able to see whom fired the gun.

The bald creepy stalker man stood strong and tall, a handgun resting at his thigh as he stared at them. Corbin groaned in pain from beside him and John tried to roll away from the deranged maniac. He wasn't sure if this man was also after him or not, but he was just happy to be away from Corbin. For all he knew, Moriarty had a price on his head and a bunch of assassins were fighting over whom would get his head and the glory.

"John Watson?"

He looked up, never noticing the man was walking towards him. He crouched down and looked him over, a look of sympathy in his eyes as he grimaced.

"I'm taking you to the hospital. I'm Gabriel Shaddock, Holmes asked me to keep an eye on you. I didn't expect you to run away from me though." The man murmured, his voice was soothing, yet strong.

"You can't walk, huh? No matter." The other murmured before lifting him up and gently carrying him out of the park as police quickly swarmed the place.

Gabriel gently placed him in the back of a black car before getting into the passenger seat where he stated that they should head to the nearest hospital as quickly as possible, before pulling out a phone and dialing a number.

"Holmes? It's Shaddock. He's extremely wounded. We're heading to- Yes, that's the Hospital. You're welcome, I'm sorry I didn't catch up sooner. It's my fault entirely. See you there."

John's vision slowly began to fade, his breathing was becoming painful, and soon he was encompassed in darkness.

–

Sherlock walked briskly into the hospital where he met Lestrade waiting for him at the entrance.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" He barked, looking expectantly at Sherlock.

"I'll explain, but take me to him." Sherlock replied, eyes hard with worry and anger.

"He's in surgery right now, but we can go to the waiting room. Explain to me on the way."

The brunette nodded and the two took off quickly down the winding corridors until they entered a waiting room.

"Now, talk."

Sherlock sighed before he began pacing the length of the room while Lestrade stared at him expectantly by the doorway, arms crossed.

"Shortly after giving Sebastian back to Moriarty in exchange for John's life, he met some boy named Kevin. Now, before you say anything, I knew Moriarty wouldn't stop, and John knew as well, which was why I had Shaddock watching John and trailing him the minute he left the flat. Anyways, I was immediately suspicious of this Kevin, but John stupidly didn't see it and refused to believe me, taking it as jealousy of some sort. See? Sentiment ruins logic and common sense. Such stupid behavior."

Lestrade nodded, "Why didn't you just trail him yourself or confront Kevin?"

Sherlock raised a brow, "Even if I confronted him he would've continued playing along as this nice friendly kid. His purpose was to drive a rift between John and I in hopes of not only betraying him, but breaking him completely by taking myself away. I don't really quite understand it all, you'll have to interrogate him to get the full length of his idea, but it's my theory."

Lestrade nodded and sighed, settling into a chair. Sherlock glanced at Lestrade, "How bad is it?"

"For the most part, nothing was severely damaged that they see. The dagger grazed his large intestine but missed everything else. The problem is the blood loss and the fact that that bastard spun the knife while it was inside him, ripping his insides to hell. He has excessive internal bleeding. He also was stabbed through the right arm, right through bone. They're doing the best they can, but if he pulls through it's a miracle."

The large, resounding crash caused Lestrade to jump and look at Sherlock, whom had his fist embedded in the drywall. "I should have went with my theory and followed him today. I had a feeling it would be when he would finally show his true colors."

Sherlock was huffing when the intercom came on with an urgent call of 'code blue'. Lestrade and Sherlock looked at each other with wide eyes when they heard people rushing down the hall and into the room John was in.

Sherlock felt fear for the first time in years.

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**I know i updated yesterday but i figured since i didn't update for at least 8 days i post this today. we would appreciate reviews on the story, we have one more chapter and than an epilogue. i thank everyone who follows the story and has favorite it, and of course thanks to all that have reviewed. We hope to hear how you like the story and winterimperfect would like to know as well since the chapter was written by winterimperfect. I don't write action scenes if i did this story wouldn't have gotten this far, so i thank winterimperfect for the help.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Well here is the chapter before the epilogue, i would like to thank everyone who reviewed on the last two chapters (though i think only one person did) but anyways. well i will let read the chapter, and i really hope you enjoy it. Remember winterimperfect wrote the chapter, my friend finishing up this story while i finish up _'Chance Meeting' _**

* * *

Sherlock slid into a chair in the waiting room, his elbows resting on his knees as he pressed his hands to his face. He let out a slow, shuddering breath. His whole body shook and a few tears seeped through his fingers. He slid his hands until they were pressed together, resting against his forehead. He allowed the tears to flow freely regardless of the fact Lestrade and Gabriel were in the room with him. Gabriel had just returned with three coffees when the Code Blue was called and had to team up with the DI to restrain Sherlock, whom wanted to run into the surgical ward with the doctors and nurses.

"Calm down." Gabriel said soothingly, slowly approaching and placing a hand carefully on the shaking shoulders of the consulting detective, "He's stabilized. We should be able to see him shortly, though he probably won't be awake. If he makes it through the night he should make it through this ordeal and be home shortly."

Sherlock nodded, his body still wracked with sobs as his nerves, frayed as they were, tried to calm themselves. Lestrade looked up at Gabriel before he looked down at the shaking man.

"We're no good here. Why don't we go get something to eat. Sherlock, you need to eat. No point collapsing when John finally wakes up. He'll want to see you looking your best, not haggard. You'd guilt him."

"I'm not hungry." Sherlock muttered, glaring at the DI through bloodshot eyes.

"You need to eat **something. **The last thing I want is for you to end up in a hospital bed next to John due to malnutrition."

Sherlock sighed but stood up, "Fine. Show the way."

Lestrade looked at him victoriously before making his way to the cafeteria with the two men in tow.

–

Three hours had passed since they left to go to the cafeteria. Sherlock was a mess, he had forced himself to eat but it was just a bag of chips that Lestrade all but forced down his throat. He had curled up on three of the waiting room chairs and apparently had gone to sleep.

Lestrade and Gabriel were making small talk when a nurse entered the waiting room and whispered to the two men after noting the other was asleep, "He's still asleep, but most of the danger has passed. If you would like to see him, it's one at a time. Who would like to go fir-"

"Me."

The three turned to look at the fierce visage of one Sherlock Holmes, whom quickly rolled off the chairs and stood gracefully, walking into the nurse's personal space with a raised brow, "Take me to his room, woman."

Lestrade groaned at the verbal abuse spewing forth from the tall man. He yanked Sherlock back and apologized to the nurse before he dragged the man down the hall and into the ICU.

"He's in there, now, _please_, behave with the staff!"

Sherlock sniffed before he entered the room quietly, making his way to the bed and staring at the prone, pale form of John.

He studied the scene before him, taking in everything. The disturbingly pale complexion of the small man nearly blending in with the white of the hospital sheets and bandages wrapped around him, the machines linked up to him, the tubes in his nose to help him breathe.

Sherlock choked back a sob before sitting down in the chair beside the bed and curled his thin hand around the large, still one.

"I really should have told you straight out how I felt instead of throwing it aside in anger." He muttered, pressing his forehead to their joined hands, "But this is new to me. I don't understand this feeling of need, this feeling of possession. I don't understand or have ever felt love, lust, attraction. But I understand need, necessity. You're like cocaine to me. I need it, I'm addicted to it. I'm addicted to you."

He let out a long sigh, "If only I could say it when you're awake."

He sat up and rubbed the still hand before leaving the room and going into the waiting room.

–

"Sherlock. Wake up."

The tall man groaned in discomfort and went to roll over, ungracefully falling onto the floor.

"Ouch. Where am I? Why are you here? Where is my bed? I feel disgusting."

"You're in the waiting room, you fell asleep on some chairs. John woke up. I thought you'd like to see him."

"Take me too him. Shaddock? Get me some tea."

Gabriel nodded and hurried off while Lestrade groaned at this wanker, refused, and walked off after Gabriel.

Sherlock snorted before he made his way to where he recalled John's room being. He walked in like he owned the room and made his way to the bedside of John, whom looked at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"Glad to see my being near death hasn't humbled you any." John croaked out, his throat raw from the tubes.

"Why would it?" Sherlock sniffed, sitting down in the chair quietly.

"Don't let him fool you. He was sobbing like a little girl in the waiting room."

Sherlock snarled in the direction of the door where Lestrade was, holding a paper cup filled with tea out for him.

"You deserve it for being such an arse to everyone around you."

Sherlock sighed, grabbed his tea and forcefully pushed Lestrade out of the room. He made his way back to his chair and sat down, sipping his tea before looking up at the blonde who looked at him in a strange manner.

"Did you really cry?"

"And what if I did? Want to rub it in my face? The unfeeling monster has feelings and cries over the one person he needs, his only friend. He's human after all, let's poke fun at him!"

"I wouldn't make fun of you." John sighed, "Look, I'm sorry I doubted you okay? He fooled me good. You'd think someone from Moriarty's inner circle and with the training I have would be more cautious. I didn't mean the shit I said."

John reached out and grasped Sherlock's hand, the one that wasn't holding the tea.

"I love you. I may have acted like an idiot and completely irresponsible, but I do love you. Don't doubt it. You set that man to follow me for my protection knowing I would blow up at you if you followed me, didn't you?"

The brunette nodded, liking the feel of the warm moving hand. John was still pale but some color was back in his cheeks. His right arm was in a sling and he wasn't allowed to sit up, so he was mainly slumped on the side of the bed.

"I need you, John." Sherlock finally said into the silence of the room. He looked up after letting his mask melt away so the other could see that he wasn't entirely unfeeling. "I don't understand love, affection, lust.. none of that. But I _need_ you, John. Do you understand?"

John smiled and nodded, "I do. I did back then too but didn't want to admit it to myself. I just figured you were playing with me for some odd reason. I'm sorry for being such a prat."

Sherlock smiled back before he stood up and murmured, "You should get some rest. Lestrade wants to see you as well."

The brunette went to walk away but stopped before turning around and leaning over the bed, pressing a chaste kiss to the blonde's lips before leaving the room.

* * *

**i hope no one thought we were going to kill John, that be too cruel. The epilogue will be posted as soon as it is written, hopefully in the next two days at least. Remember to read the other stories we also have a teenlock in progress at the moment, please read _'Exsanguination Cyphers'_ it will be updated more once this story complete along with _'Chance meeting'_**


	21. Epilogue

A year had passed since the Corbin incident and within that time many things had happened. Mainly, Sherlock and John had become an item shortly after John's near death experience. They had talked it over and- after much confusion on Sherlock's part- Sherlock decided his need for John even reached carnal desire on occasion; but stated that when working he would not divulge in any such activities or frivolous activities, which John understood.

John was released from hospital care to home care about four months after the stabbing, right after Corbin was sentenced to life in prison.

An infection had set in and he had almost succumb to it, but thankfully made it through. That time was rough on Sherlock, whom was on a case far away and couldn't get back in time and had to get all the information from Lestrade. When he finally solved the case and returned, John was stabilized and his infection was clearing up. Sherlock wouldn't stop beating himself up about it, much to John's surprise, whom explained he understood that the man couldn't be beside him every step of the way and shouldn't blame himself.

That was when Sherlock knew he truly did love John.

While recovering, a nurse would come thrice weekly to change John's bandages and check his wound for any sign of infection, but after attempting to seduce her charge once, the brunette had her fired and a new nurse took her place. Sherlock and this nurse didn't quite get along, but John enjoyed their witty banter as she checked, cleaned and bandaged his wounds.

It was around this time that John learned the news of the death of Moriarty and Sebastian. Lover's suicide. He didn't want to know what had happened to create such a poetic death for the two, but he still felt pain at the thought. They may have been corrupted human beings, but he still did know them and recalled the few times he saw their human sides when they thought they were alone together.

Now, a year after it all, John was given the news that he could now live normally, the wound was healed, his arm was healed properly, but he still had to take it a little easy. Nothing overly vigorous, but he could now play light sports, jog, and yes, even fornication.

"Happy to be able to go back with me on cases?" Sherlock murmured as the cab made it's way towards Baker Street.

John nodded, a smile playing on his lips. He slithered a hand over to place atop of Sherlock's before quickly putting his hand back in his lap. He saw the mysterious smile he adored slide across the brunette's features.

"I was thinking we could commemorate not only my recovery but our anniversary. Neither of us can really recall the exact date we decided to get together so let's make it today. Dinner and a movie?" John asked, head tilted to the side and smiling.

"You know how I feel about movies, John."

"I know, but this one will be good! I'm sure you'll like it. Has to do with serial killers." John said, nearly singsonging it at the end.

"I hope it's more realistic than those super trained assassin films you like."

"What's wrong with the Bourne films?"

Sherlock simply shook his head and stayed quiet, staring out the window and pouting slightly over having to sit through another movie.

–

"Okay, that wasn't so bad.. Figured it out in the first ten minutes, but what was that going on between the detective and the killer?"

"I do believe the killer was attracted to the detective, Sherlock. You figured out the plot but not the slight romance?"

Sherlock cocked a brow and stared at John.

"I was an assassin not a serial killer, Sherlock."

"Seems similar to me." The other sniffed before leaning over and kissing John.

John pouted slightly and pushed at Sherlock, "Take that back. I'm not a serial killer. I didn't do it for fun or because I liked it."

The brunette sighed and cupped John's cheek, "You are different. I'm sorry, alright? I'm trying hard not to let my personality ruin this for you."

John nodded and sighed before curling up to Sherlock. He stiffened before slowly curling an arm around the blonde and holding him to his chest as he looked up at the ceiling. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. He was never in a relationship before.

"What am I supposed to do?" Sherlock muttered under his breath, hoping John didn't hear him.

"You're supposed to cuddle me and tell me I'm pretty." John muttered into Sherlock's stomach.

"Tell you you're pretty?" Sherlock's eyebrows raised to his hairline as he stared down his nose at his companion.

"Everyone wants to be pretty." John stated, before looking up with a grin, "Kidding. Just do what you're comfortable with. Just this is fine, you know."

After awhile in silence, John reached out for the remote and turned the telly on to some random show. Sherlock cocked a brow and looked down at him, "Do you like this rubbish?"

"Not one bit, but I figured we could stay longer like this if we were watching something." The other said against the flat stomach he was resting on.

Sherlock smiled slightly before ruffling the blonde locks of his partner before letting his hand drop again around the others shoulders.

Until late into the night they stayed like that, enjoying each others company.

-The end.-


End file.
